On My Own
by FaTcAtInAhAt
Summary: After losing someone close, and seeming to lose a bit of herself with him, what is Hermione to do? She does not want anyone's help. But someone needs to change that, or it could cost him his life. Final chapter up. Over 6000 hits.
1. Memories & Memorials

**Dedicated To:** Monica, duh!**  
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**Disclaimer:**** I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters.****  
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**On My Own**

**Chapter 1- Memories & Memorials**

_I can't believe he isn't here for this. I can't believe he isn't around for our last year at Hogwarts,_ Hermione Granger thought to herself as she sat in the Head Girl's common room at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. As Hermione sat between the wooden walls of a school she once had loved, had once found a sanctuary in, she felt hate for those walls. They were the reason for her loss, the reason _he_ wasn't there to share in this supposedly happy year. She was supposed to be enjoying her first day back, not grieving for the loss of a loved one. Hermione was the smartest witch that Hogwarts had seen since Lily Potter, but she still felt there were some things she did not understand. Like why _he_ could not be there...

But it didn't matter to Hermione anymore. The person that should have been spending this joyous occasion with her wasn't there, and would never again would be there.

_He could have always become a ghost,_ she bitterly thought to herself, yet again. It seemed to be the one thought that cheered her up these days, even though she knew he had not. They had checked to see if he had indeed became a ghost, but to what they could see, he had not. _I am just being selfish, wanting him back with me. But it would never have been the same anyways. He wouldn't have been real; he would have just been the imprint of himself that he left on this Earth. _A sudden knock on the door leading into her common room pulled her out of her musings.

"Hey, Granger! You have a visitor, with red-hair," a voice called outside the door.

_At least it's not Harry; I wouldn't be able to talk to him, not yet, _she thought as she walked out of her room.

"Thanks, Zabini," she said as she walked by the brown-haired boy and opened up the portrait hole, only to throw the person standing there a quizzical look. "George...?"

"Actually, I'm Fred. George is with Harry and Ginny right now," answered the red-headed twin, climbing in the portrait hole as she gestured for him to come in and sitting down on one of the couches, followed closely by Hermione, who was attempting to rid herself of the tears that were forcing their way out. "How are you so far?"

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked.

"Ever since—well— you know," said Fred, shifting uncomfortably.

"I don't know what you are talking about," she said, her voice squeaking as she visibly fought off the sobs which the tears were going to bring about.

"You and I both know perfectly well that you know what I am talking about," said Fred calmly.

"I guess I have been fine," sighed Hermione.

"We both know that's a lie too. I was talking to people around the school earlier, and some of them say that you have been moping. A lot," he stated.

"So what? He was my best friend, Fred. What am I supposed to do, act like nothing happened?" Hermione asked.

"No, but you have to realize, he died for you. He would have killed himself if you had died anyway. He wouldn't have been able to live with the guilt, always blaming it on himself. That's why he died. For you," Fred continued. "But you can't go and blame yourself either. It was not your fault. It was no one's fault. It was just how it was made to happen. And I think that Harry would agree with me on this, and so should you: He would have wanted to go out as a hero. He was always in the shadow of Harry. His biggest achievement was when he won the Quidditch Cup. But _this_, this tops that completely. That's how he wanted it. He wanted to save you; he wanted to go out _fighting_."

"I agree with you, Fred, but I can stand the thought that he'll _never_ be back. Don't you understand the word '_never_' Fred? That means he won't ever come back again. I'll _never_ ever be able to talk to him, laugh with him, and cheer him on during Quidditch matches, nothing. _Ever_ again. I don't think I can handle that," said Hermione, wiping her eyes.

"If it was Harry, would it have been the same?"

"Of course," answered Hermione, giving him a fixed look, "I love Harry just as much as I loved Ron. Hell, I _still_ love Ron. I'll never _stop_ loving him."

"And that's a good thing. You should always love him, even if he is gone. He's watching us all Hermione. And if he knows that we still love him, he will always watch out for all of us," Fred stated. For the next few minutes, the two sat in an oddly comforting silence. "You should never forget about him; but you can't let your life go down the loo because of his death."

"I am so afraid to go to that service they are having for him." Hermione said suddenly, after the twenty minute pause.

"But you're reading at it, aren't you?" Fred asked, raising a, strangely, well groomed eyebrow.

"It's not that, it's that half these people going will be people who made fun of him," she rolled her eyes at the thought, "or only knew him as 'that friend of Harry Potter's .'"

"You're right, but there will also be the whole family there, and the whole school, which includes people who loved him also. Then there will be Order members. It doesn't matter if everyone there doesn't know who he was, it is the fact that they are there because they know what a great cause he died for," comforted Fred.

Hermione stood, still trying to fight the tears and the sobs once more. Fred stood also and followed her to the portrait-hole. "Goodnight, Fred," she said, quickly hugging him, "Make sure the rest of the family remember their speeches." Then she left the worried Fred at the portrait, heading off to her private room to cry. Hermione knew that the tears would enevitably come, no matter how much she tried to hold the tears back. Her hope was that, if she cried tonight, she would not cry tomorrow. Not wanting people to know her greatest weakness was Ron. Pulling her wand from her pocket, she cleaned her pillow, which she was sure was still tears stained from the cry she had experienced earlier that day.

* * *

"I was one of Ron's closest friends," started Hermione, a piece of crumpled and messy paper in front of her. Without a second thought, however, Hermione picked up the piece of paper and folded it up, stuffing it quickly into her back pocket. "I had written this whole speech," she said, shrugging as the tears swelled up in her eyes once more, "talking just about Ron's life at Hogwarts." The Great Hall was filled with the people they had grown up with over the past seven years; friends, professors, and the entire red-haired Weasley family. "But I've changed my mind. I want to tell you about his last few hours; about when and how he died." 

"At the end of August, unexplainable Muggle deaths began occurring, and many people were dying; usually members of the Order and those who refused to join Voldemort. And we knew that it would only be a few weeks before we would have to fight. It happened, during the second week of August. McGonagall came to us at Harry's house, and he told us that Voldemort's entire army was heading for Hogwarts castle at that very moment. We got there as fast as we could, and so did the Order of the Phoenix and all the creatures that had sided with us. It ranged from half the giant population to the giant squid in the lake to the whole centaur population.

"After what felt like hours of waiting, they finally arrived; they surrounded the school. We all fought, and soon it felt like the war would never end. And then, it was just down to the remaining members of the Order; we had killed anything that was on their side except a small number of Death Eaters and Voldemort himself," Hermione had aquired a very glazed over look by this time, and the tears were silently falling down her cheeks.

"It seemed all too easy; we outnumbered them, five-to-one. But we forgot how powerful Voldemort was. McGonagall was the first to aim for Voldemort, going straight for him, to help Harry destroy him. We all took her lead and headed for the Death Eaters. I was already wounded, I had broken my arm and Ron stayed by my side to make sure I wasn't hurt anymore. We remained closed to where Harry was fighting Voldemort, in case he needed any help. It all happened way too fast," Hermione paused as the images flashed in her head.

"McGonagall came behind Voldemort, distracting him, while Harry took this chance to destroy him. I stopped fighting Dolohov, one of the Death Eaters, for a second to see this. But this was one of the biggest mistakes, because the next thing I knew, Ron was screaming for me to turn around, my name was the last thing he said. By the time I had turned around, to the sound of a cackling Death Eater, Ron had--" Hermione stopped and took a breath, still crying. She let the sobs completely wrack her body; a red-haired young man sitting in the front row quickly rushed over to her.

"Hermione, it's all right. You're just telling the truth," The voice of Fred Weasley comforted her. "Let's sit down," he said as he ushered her to a seat and sat her in it. He looked over at Harry, and nodded in the direction of the podium. Harry nodded and stood, unfolding a piece of paper as he approached.

"Like Hermione, I was one of Ron's closest friends..." And he continued his speech, which was much like Hermione's. Soon, he sat down and the whole Weasley family got up and talked, none about anything in particular. Mostly, it was things they remembered from Ron's childhood, silly stories that one usually would recall after someone passed away. The only two left to talk now were Fred, who was still comforting the sobbing Hermione, and Professor McGonagall. Fred finally stood up and walked to the podium, leaving Hermione to be comforted by George.

"I was going to come up here and have this really long speech about all the accomplishments made by Ron," started Fred. He started shaking his head and shrugged, "But I can't. We have all just sat through over ten speeches about Ron, all of them saying everything I wanted to, and I don't think you need to hear it again. What I want to say is that everyone here should go up to Hermione Granger after this ceremony and tell her that it is true that it wasn't her fault Ron isn't here; how it was Ron's own choice to save her, he loved her that much. He was such a loyal friend he sacrificed himself for her.

"Look at her, she feels so guilty over this, she has been crying constantly for over two hours because she tried to relive Ron's last hours with you; just so you'd hear the truth. I doubt that any of you know that Ron loved Hermione more than a friend. I doubt that you knew that they were dating the time of his death," Hermione gave a huge sob when he said this, and continued to cry even harder. "And if you blame Hermione for this, you should be ashamed, because you should be blaming love. _Foolish_ love. They loved each other, and Hermione _still _loves him. She never meant to hurt him, and she definitely didn't make him sacrifice himself. He did it because he felt it was the _right thing to do_. And trust me, it was most righteous thing he could have ever done. He was a Gryffindor; a true Gryffindor. He showed he was brave, and he was loyal. And if you can't accept it, fine. Then you can't accept love, and the proposal which Ron made to Hermione barely an hour before the fight began. Yes, that means that, even though a small span of time from then to his death, Hermione Granger was engaged to my brother Ronald," he looked around the Great Hall one last time, knowing everyone was wondering why he had not told some embarressing story about Ron; whether or not he was telling the truth. Fred shook his head at the crowd turned to leave the podium

Hermione hastily stood, running down the center isle before Fred made it down the few steps from the podium.

Professor McGonagall drew everyone's attention away from the swinging Great Hall doors as she stood and approached the podium herself.

"This night is in memory of not only Ronald Weasley, but everyone that was lost during the war which has finally finished. You have just heard, from our own Hermione Granger, about one courageous young man's bravery and love for another. As Professor Dumbledore said a few years back when young Cedric Diggory was murdered: remember. Remember the silly times, and the serious times you spend. Remember the smallest moments. For when they are gone, all you are left with are your memories. Remember Ronald Weasley, a young man who gave his own life. He gave up everything, his future, a career, for the woman he loved, and his child."

There was a gasp heard around the Great Hall, and another awkward silence. But Professor McGonagall acted as if she had said nothing and continued, "I now ask you to stand in silence in honor of those lost."

They all stood, bowing their heads and standing in silence for a few minutes.

An hour later, every left the Great Hall, giving their condolences to the Weasley's and other families which had lost loved ones before returning to their respectable house dormitories.

* * *

Fred rushed after Hermione as quickly as he could. He could barely see her figure once they had gone outside, into the thick fog that encased the school grounds that night. But he knew where she was headed. 

How right he was.

He was barely able to catch her as she fell to her knees, crying.

Kneeling down beside her, he cradled her, letting her head fall onto his shoulder as she sobbed, shaking her head furiously.

"I can't do this anymore," she said over and over. "I can't do this anymore."

"You can't do what anymore, Hermione?" he asked her gently.

Her answer was completely muffled by Fred's shoulder, due to her having buried her head in it.

He suppressed a laugh as he pulled away from her slightly. "Can you say that again?"

"I can't _live _anymore, Fred," she answered clearly and sob-free. "Not without him. Not like this."

He nodded his head understandingly. "But you have to, Hermione," he told her. "For the sake of your baby."

This only made her sob harder. "I can't raise a child without him, Fred," said Hermione. "I just _can't._"

This was the perfect time for Fred to tell her.

"I need to tell you something, Hermione," he said, breathing in deeply. "Something that Ron asked me to do."

She blinked away more tears as she lifted her head up. "What did he say?"

Ron and Fred had never been close, not like Fred and George were anyway. But when his brother had come to him during the summer, just hours before his death, he had listened. Fred wasn't one that was usually serious, but it was a serious time; they all knew that the final battle was coming.

That's when Ron had told Fred that Hermione was pregnant, and he had no idea what to do. He had proposed just before coming over and talking to Fred, but he wanted Fred for more than just a conversation and support.

"He told me that if anything went wrong, and he didn't make it," started Fred. It was hard to tell this to Hermione. Sure, he had gone over it in his head thousands of times, but the reality of the situation was _just _sinking in. There had been many times where he could have told her; they had grown closer over the summer. But now was the right time. He _had _to tell her. "Ron said that he wanted me to take care of you, and the baby."

Hermione's head fell downwards as tears started pouring once more. She shook her head again.

"I promised him that I would help you raise your baby if anything happened," he continued. "I said that I would no matter what."

"You can't!" she protested, pushing away from him. "You have your _own _life. You shouldn't be bothered with mine."

"But I promised Hermione," he said. "I made an Unbreakable Vow."

She looked back up, tears still falling. "Who else knows about this? Who was there with the two of you?"

"Professor McGonagall was," answered Fred.

A look of worry registered across Hermione's face. "But… what will she think of me?"

"She was the third person we needed," he told her. "She offered."

"You can't help me," protested Hermione. "This is my problem, not yours."

She stood hurriedly, walking away from him before he could stand.

Fred looked around in the fog, only able to see the faint outline of the castle. It was too late; Hermione was nowhere to be seen.

He hurried to the castle, hoping to catch her before she got back to her dormitory, spotting her just as she ran up the Grand Staircase.

"Hermione, wait!" said a familiar voice, belonging to a raven-haired boy. Harry was following closely behind Hermione, and Fred knew that he had to let them talk before doing anything.

* * *

Hermione let her feet run as fast as they could away from Fred. In record time, she was heading up the Grand Staircase. 

"Hermione, wait!" she heard the request of Harry, whom she knew she had run right past. She could hear his footfalls behind herself, but didn't stop. She _couldn't _stop.

Ever since that summer, her life had gone too fast. It only seemed fitting that she went fast right along with it.

After what Fred had said at the podium, she had to run. Was it not a memorial for Ron? It seemed wrong that she didn't visit where his death had happened, so she had let her feet guide her there.

The rubble had been picked up, and there were no longer the trampled spots of ground. But she knew.

It was hard to forget; it was the place that haunted her dreams every night when she tried to rest.

Her vision blurred as she remembered the spot; as she remembered what happened to Ron. How could the one place that offered her safety for years, turn into the one place she dreaded to be? Once her sanctuary, her safe-spot, it was now hell on earth.

"Hermione!" she heard behind herself once more. But she ignored him, the stitch in her side, and all the questioning faces she ran past.

Suddenly, Harry caught her arm, pulling her to a stop. She let herself collapse into his arms as her knees gave way.

"Hermione, please don't cry anymore," he said gently, letting his own head fall lightly upon the top of hers. "Everything will be all right."

She couldn't help herself and let the tears pour. "Nothing will ever be all right, Harry," she said. "_Never_."

He didn't reply, but pulled her closer, rubbing her back in a circular motion. Hermione buried her head deeper into his shoulder. They stood like this for a while, exactly how long they did not know.

Finally, Harry spoke. "You can't beat yourself up like this, Hermione," he said quietly.

She pushed away, finding new strength. "You don't understand, Harry," whispered Hermione lowly, her voice cracking. "I doubt that you'll _ever _understand the pain that I feel right now."

Harry glared at her, as though he were trying to burn a hole in her. "You lost one person in you life, _big deal_. Try losing _everyone _who ever cared for you; my parents, Sirius, Professor Dumbledore, and Ron. Stop acting like you're the only one who was affected by Ron's death."

He knew what he said was mean, and that he should not have said it, but he could not contain himself. They were both just caught in the heat of the moment, and the tension was building even as they stood therem glaring.

Hermione closed her eyes, knowing she was being selfish once more. Here she was, telling Harry that he had no idea what it was like to lose someone, knowing perfectly well that he had felt it so much worse than she had.

Slowly backing away, Hermione knew that nothing could ever be the same between Harry and her. They could never be "the Trio" again. And without that, their friendship could no longer be as strong. They could not be "Hermione and Harry," because Ron had been a part of both of them. Without him, the connection was broken between them.

* * *

**Author's Note:** This story is dedicated to Monica as her Christmas gift. I love you, my evil twin, and no one could ever replace the help and advice you have given me over the past year. Words really cannot express my appreciation for all you have done for me. This entire story is for you, from this chapter to the tenth and final one. Hope you had a Merry Christmas (and like the changes I've made to this story since I first wrote it)! 

You've helped me grown so much as a writer, and as a friend.

Merry Christmas! Happy New Years!

Love,

Leii.


	2. Fights & Fears

**On My Own**

**Chapter Two- Fights & Fears**

For Hermione, the trip back to her dormitory was all a blur. Literally. One second she was backing away from Harry, the next she was kneeling in front of the portrait hole crying. She could not remember the password; her mind would not function properly. All she could think of was Ron.

She had thought, when Professor Dumbledore had been killed, that nothing could be worse. But barely two months later something worse _did _happen. She could not, for the life of her, pick up the pieces to her life once more. Hermione had always thought of herself as a strong person, until Ron died. Now, she could barely pick up the pieces by herself.

It did not help that her closest friend left wanted nothing to do with her. She wanted his help; she knew that he would help her. Or so she thought. His reaction was completely different then she had expected. Harry was not supposed to explode like he had.

Of course, losing a best friend could turn you against anyone. Hermione knew how hurt Harry had been; that he had been hoping the "Golden Trio" would make it out together. She too had been hoping they would get their deserved "happily ever after." But life didn't work out that way. Ron had been killed, because of his love for Hermione nonetheless.

She was far from accepting his death, but deep down, she knew that she could not cry forever. So why couldn't she stop the tears from falling? Why couldn't she stand up and go on with her life? Of course, her musings were interrupted as she suddenly felt herself being lifted to her feet. Arms wrapped around her, but she didn't care who it was. She let herself melt into them, her head falling onto their shoulder as the tears continued to fall.

"I'm trying to help you inside," a familiar deep voice spoke, gently pushing her away. Without opening her eyes, she let them guide her inside. She knew that it was Blaise, and couldn't possibly fathom why he was talking to her civilly, let alone helping her. She heard foot steps behind herself and knew someone was following them inside.

"Okay, you can go, Zabini," said Fred in a low voice. He took Hermione's hand and led her to her room. "I told you that you cannot be doing this to yourself, Hermione."

Unable to answer, she nodded, wiping her eyes with her free hand.

Fred couldn't stand what was happening. He had almost started screaming at Harry after viewing the fight between Hermione and him. Glad he found Hermione before something happened to her, he noted she was shaking. Her face and eyes had become puffy and red, not making her a pretty site. She looked like a woman who had lost the love of her life.

The door was open Hermione's room and he quickly led her to the bed. "It's all right, 'Mione," he said comfortingly as he handed her the box of tissues that had been sitting on her night stand.

She sniffled, wiping her eyes and nose with a tissue. "Stop saying that, Fred," she said quietly. "And tell me something that is true."

* * *

The morning came too early, the sunlight shinning in Hermione's face and waking her from another restless nights sleep. She turned over in an effort to avoid the sunlight as she pulled the covers high over her head. Not that she did not have the intention of getting up; she just needed five more minutes. Or a couple more hours. Either would be fine with her. 

Grumbling five minutes later, when she deemed it hopeless to try to get back to sleep with the way her stomach was twisting, she looked over at the comfy arm chair next to her bed. Of course, she realized that Fred must have left not long after she had cried herself to sleep. She appreciated that he was trying to comfort her, but it _was _her life; she was not going to pull him into it.

Hermione swung her feet over the side of the bed and stretched, bringing her arms high over her head. Her feet made contact with the cold floor as she headed for the full sized mirror hanging on the back of her door. Hermione lifted up her shirt, just revealing her flat stomach. It still hadn't started changing or growing; she knew it wouldn't yet. But the fact that her flat stomach would soon have the tell-tale bump frightened her.

Just then, there was a knock on the door and Hermione took a step backwards. "Who is it?" she asked groggily. _Who would be here so early?_

"Hermione, dear," the familiar voice of Molly Weasley floated through the door. "It is me, Molly."

Hermione straightened her shirt and subconsciously reached a hand up to her head.

"I realize how early it is, and that you probably have not dressed yet," her voice came to Hermione once more, "But I asked Professor McGonagall if you could have the day off so we could talk and she said that would be all right."

Sighing, she reached out to the doorknob, knowing once she opened it Mrs. Weasley was going to come in, exclaim how stupid she and Ron had been, start sobbing that she was sorry for yelling, sorry that Ron was not here for Hermione, and then offer help.

All things that Hermione did not want to hear. She did not want to hear anymore of how stupid she had been. She knew that she was the "smart one"; the one that this should _never _have happened to. Hermione's conscience had been telling her that all summer, and she didn't want to hear it from Mrs. Weasley. Apologies Hermione could also do without. _Everyone _was sorry that Ron was gone and saying sorry was not going to change what had happened.

Hermione Jane Granger, being stubborn, did not want Mrs. Weasley help. Quite frankly, she didn't want _anyone's _help. This was _her _problem, as she told Fred; it would remain that way.

The second the door was opened, Mrs. Weasley rushed in.

Unexpectedly, Molly pulled Hermione into a bone-crushing hug. Unsure of what to do, Hermione just stood there. When Molly released her, she let her hands linger on Hermione's shoulders, giving her a hard look. She knew what was coming next…

"How could the two of you have been so careless?" she asked, clearly still in disbelief but still rather calm. "You had a bright future, Hermione. This ruins it."

Hermione nodded, still uncertain of what she should do and say. "I'm sorry," she finally said.

She looked away from the older woman, trying not to think of Ron once more; trying to start off _one _say without tears. But everything in her room was a reminder of Ron. From her books piled on top of her trunk; to the slippers obliquely lying next to her bed. _Everything_.

Trying to hold the tears inside, for she had shed enough tears the previous night to fill a lake, she closed her eyes together tightly. Her efforts were useless however, because a single tear escaped the confines of her eyelids, leaving its salty trail as it ran down her cheek.

"Hermione," she heard Mrs. Weasley comforting voice say in a sad tone, "Don't cry anymore."

"I don't need your help, Mrs. Weasley," said Hermione, eyes still closed. "So please do not offer."

Upon hearing a loud groan, she opened her eyes. Mrs. Weasley's face was very red indeed. "Hermione, you don't know what you've gotten yourself into. You need someone with experience to help you!" said Molly exasperatedly. "I advise you to at least listen to me."

Hermione sighed, letting her shoulders drop resignedly. "Go on, Mrs. Weasley," she said unenthusiastically.

The corners of Molly's lips curled and, suddenly, she was grinning happily at Hermione. She held out one hand, gesturing for Hermione to sit down. She did as the older woman silently requested and sat on her bed, letting Mrs. Weasley have the overstuffed chair.

They sat in silence for a few moments as she made herself comfortable. Once she was adjusted to her liking, she started on with her advice. "You're three months along right now, correct?"

Hermione blushed. How long had it been _exactly?_ "Three and a half," she answered quietly.

Mrs. Weasley face had changed form her big grin to stone and unreadable, and Hermione knew that it was no time to joke or kid with her. Not that Hermione was in a joke cracking mood. "You won't start showing for a couple more months, but I still want to teach you a few charms to cover it up. These are shrinking charms, and will not cause any harm to your child."

"Mrs. Weasley, what's the point of covering it up if everyone knows?"

The red haired woman smiled. "It will save you money on clothing; money you will need to use for the child."

She continued talking about how to take care of the baby, how to feed the baby, how not to talk to the baby, etc. Hermione's mind, however, was elsewhere. That is, however, until she said—

"I've asked McGonagall, and she is fine with it."

Hermione several times, her dark brow furrowing. "Fine with what?"

"You coming to the Burrow at Christmas and not coming back here to Hogwarts until the baby is born," a frustrated Mrs. Weasley exclaimed.

"But what about school?"

"Your baby's well being is much more important now."

"How will I get a job to provide for my child if I drop out of school?"

"You should have thought about that before you became pregnant," she snapped quickly.

"Listen, Mrs. Weasley, I know that you have every intention of helping me every second of the day," said Hermione; she knew that, if she did not set her straight now, she never would. "But I need to finish school. This one mistake is not going to ruin my life, Mrs. Weasley. It's not what Ron would have wanted."

* * *

The dark gray sky mirrored Harry's feelings. In one year he had lost more than he ever imagined; not only Professor Dumbledore, but Ron Weasley, his best friend. 

Harry had not any friends in his life until red-haired-Ron entered the compartment of the Hogwarts Express, dirt on his nose and Charlie's old wand. Since that time, they had been best mates. Other than the occasional fight, they were the closest friend either had ever had.

Distinctly, Harry could remember the final fight they had. But he was not referring to it as the "Final Fight," for that made it seem so absolute.

The summer had been so hard, they had found all the Horcruxes in less than a month, destroyed them, and found Voldemort. The tension in all of the Wizarding World was building daily as more and more deaths occurred; everyone was waiting for Harry to final choice his fate; they waited for him to either kill or be killed.

He couldn't even remember what had caused them to fight; just that Hermione had been the one to force them to make up. Of course, then Hermione and Harry started to fight, which was only resolved hours before the final battle. By Ron.

Ron had forced them both to come to their senses…

"_What if you never get to see each other again?" he had asked seriously, standing between them in the crowded stone room. "What if this is the final chance you have to apologize?"_

_Hermione looked at Ron, an unreadable look on her face. Slowly, she turned to look at Harry. "He's right," she said quietly, barely audible above the chatter in the room. "I'm sorry, Harry." Her lower lip was trembling as she pulled him into a tight embrace. "Please remember that I love you when you're out there. Remember that we _all_ love you."_

_Harry nodded, a lump forming in his thought as he thought about the coming battle. He knew that this was the moment he had been preparing for. This was his last chance to 'vanquish the Dark Lord.' "I never doubted it for one second, Hermione," he told her._

_Ron smiled, patting them both on the back. "Now don't we both feel better?"_

_The smile was contagious, spreading from Hermione, then to Harry._

If it hadn't been for Ron, Hermione and Harry may never have talked again, for Harry might not have remembered how much love he had received. Harry sighed at this thought. Everything was different with Ron gone. But, he tried to remain optimistic. He had Ginny once more. He knew that Ron would not want to stop the world because of his death; he would want everyone to move on. So why couldn't Harry stop the nagging feelings of guilt that erupted in him every waking moment of the day?

Harry did not turn his head to see who he could hear walking through the puddles, for her knew it was Ginny. "Harry," she spoke to him softly, resting her chin on his shoulder. "You're going to catch your death out here." He completely agreed, he was soaked completely, but he did not want to go back inside. There was nothing left inside Hogwarts for him anymore; every reason for his return to Hogwarts was gone.

"Let's go back to the Burrow," he said softly. "Let's not stay here."

Ginny lifted her head and stepped in front of him, blocking his view of the vast, dark sky. "What do you mean, Harry?" she asked, her eyes furrowing in the dangerous way, when Harry knew he had said something he shouldn't have.

"I don't want to stay here," he answered. "What is there here for me anymore?"

He could tell she was biting her tongue as she thought of something rational to say. "_I'm_ here," she finally said. "_Hermione's _here. She needs us now more than ever."

Harry shook his head, growing furious at the mention of Hermione. "She doesn't need us," he hissed. "She doesn't want to associate with us anymore."

Ginny put both of her hands on Harry's cheeks, forcing him to look her in the eye. "How can you say that about someone you've known for almost seven years?" she asked disparagingly.

"Without Ron," he said, "She doesn't want us anymore. She doesn't _care_ anymore."

Ginny's face grew red as she let her hands fall to her sides. "How can you say that Harry? Hermione _loves _us both; you know that."

Harry shook his head again. "I talk to her last night and she doesn't care anymore! With Ron gone she _doesn't care_!"

"That's a lie, Harry," Ginny said. "And you know it!"

Harry turned away. That's all he could do at the moment, turned away. It was a simple action, but one that could bring about so much consequence. All he did was turn his body in a different direction, away from Ginny, away from the gray sky. All he did was turn away, and he knew, he _knew _that nothing could every be the same with Ron gone. Nothing could ever be the same if he kept turning away.

* * *

The Great Hall was crowded by the time Hermione had decided to leave her dormitory. But it didn't matter. Instead of pushing open the large doors, she turned off to the side, down a pair of stairs. She let her feet lead her to the kitchens, a place where she could eat in peace. After tickling the pear and entering, she was swarmed by house-elves. However, one in particular stood out. It seemed smaller than the others by at least a foot; which was saying something, because house-elves were already pretty small. 

She leaned down to Dobby. "Who is that?" she asked quietly. He looked over at the small elf and looked back at Hermione.

"That's Runty, that is," he answered. "He no good sometimes. He can't carry big plates and burns things easily."

"Why is he so small?"

"He is the youngest house-elf we have her, Miss," said Dobby as he led her to an empty table. "Still a baby compared to most here."

"Why is he here working?"

"Miss asks a lot of questions," Dobby replied, sounding somewhat irritated. "But if you must know, he was abandoned by whoever he lived with. Runty does not talk at all, but does what we ask of him."

Hermione sat on the stool, all the while staring at Runty. He seemed to notice her stare and looked up. His ears folded downwards and he looked to the ground. Frowning, Hermione looked to see that Dobby had run off to get her some food. "Runty," she said quietly. "Can you come here?"

The littlest house-elf looked around, frightened. Slowly, and with his head down, he walked to Hermione. He stopped a foot from her chair and mumbled, "What can I do for you, Miss?"

She chuckled at Runty. "I'd like you to look at me," she said kindly. He slowly lifted his head to look at her, and Hermione caught site of the biggest blue eyes she had ever seen. "How are you doing today, Runty?"

He shifted uncomfortably at her question, and looked around at the other house-elves, who did not even notice he was talking to the young woman. "F-fine, Miss. I apologize for not asking you earlier. How are you doing today, Miss?"

Again, Hermione chuckled. "I'm fine, Runty," she replied. "Thank you very much for asking."

Just then, several house-elves arrived at the table, carrying two trays of food each. One plate made Hermione queasy on site, although she did not know why. Suddenly, Runty spoke to the other elves. "Miss cannot eat those eggs," he said firmly. "They will make her sick."

Everyone's head turned to look at the house-elf, with its pink skin and blue eyes. "How did you know that, Runty?" Hermione asked in awe.

Runty, shocked by the pleased look Hermione had, looked to the floor once more. "That's what Runty did," he mumbled. "When Mistress had the child, I was no use anymore."

"You took care of her while she was expecting?" asked Hermione.

He nodded meekly. "That's what Runty does. I know what Miss should not be eating while she is expecting this child, I know it all."

She smiled. It seemed completely ironic that this house-elf would appear at Hogwarts when she was pregnant. She knew she did not want Mrs. Weasley's help. This house-elf, however, was completely different. He would only _advise _her to do things, not _tell _her what to do. It was perfect timing, that's what it was.

"What else shouldn't I be doing?"

"You just need to take it easier right now. Stress is not good. But, later on, you'll need even _more _rest."

Smiling again, Hermione took a plate of toast from a tray which the house-elves had put down. "This okay to eat?"

He gave "Miss" a questioning look. "It's only toast; of course you can eat it."

* * *

Several days past, and Hermione had told Runty to come and visit her each morning with a plate of healthy food for her and the baby. Runty had actually smiled at this request, saying it would make him very happy to bring her food every time she needed to eat. So it went, every morning, after noon and evening, Runty would pop into Hermione's bedroom with a small tray of food that he said would not make her feel sick. He turned out to be the most helpful house-elf she had ever met, especially when he told her spells that could help her if she ever _did _become nauseous. Runty was there the mornings she had morning sickness, and helped her prevent it from lasting all day. When she started getting cramps, he taught her several heating spells and told her that, in a few months, she would be able to feel that baby kicking. 

Hermione started attending her classes once more; even through the stares her peers gave her as she walked the halls, and the whispers she heard. The only thing that she did not have was friends. Harry had not spoken to her since the night they fought, Ginny threw Hermione sympathetic and apologetic looks whenever they walked past her. But Hermione did not want to talk to Harry either, so it didn't matter. The only person that was trying to talk to her, other than Runty, was Fred. He would show up at random points during the day, offering to carry her bag, telling her jokes, and explaining that he would die (literally) if she would not let him help.

But Hermione did not want help beyond that of Runty; so she shrugged Fred away from her, making up one excuse or another to return to her room or rush along to her next class. To these excuses, he would usually frown. But he would not follow her; he did not call after her. He just let her walk away from him again and again.

After about a week of Fred's unsystematic appearances, Hermione was a little irritated. "Fred, why do you do this everyday?" she asked as she fell into pace with him.

"Because I have to," he said. "And, maybe, I want to," he added once she threw him a fixed look. He smiled at her. "You know, Hermione," said Fred. "You really should not be carrying _that _many books."

She huffed loudly, he was always saying that. "Runty says it is fine for now, as long as I don't carry anymore," she told him.

Fred rolled his eyes. She was _always _talking about that damn house-elf! "Sometimes I think you've fallen in love with Runty," he chuckled.

"Just leave me be, Fred," she said. "This _isn't _your problem. Or anyone else's for that matter. It's _my _problem only!" They had stopped walking now, and Hermione was facing Fred with her hands on her hips.

"Because you are so stubborn! You're letting a young house-elf help you instead of my mother, who had seven children if you did not notice!"

She could not believe she was letting him pull her into this fight once more; she did not want to talk about it anymore. So Hermione did what she had been doing, she turned away. Except, this time was different, because Fred grabbed her arm. "I'm not asking you to let everyone help you and serve to your every whim. I'm asking you to let _me _help you. For Ron."

Her eyes filled with tears, because she knew Fred was right. She doubt that he would lie about what Ron had said; she knew that it was Ron's request that Fred should help Hermione. She knew that she should not be trying to push him away because he reminded her of Fred. She knew that she should be letting everyone help her that was offering; that Runty should not be the only one giving her advice. Hermione knew that she needed all the friends she had left. So why was she pushing everyone away.

Slowly she turned around to face Fred. After a moment of nodding, she threw her arms around his shoulder. "I'm sorry," she said into his shoulder as she held back the tears trying hardly to escape. She felt his arms wrap around her waist and on arm rub her back.

"There's nothing to be sorry about," he said. Frankly, that was the best advice Hermione had heard in months.

* * *

Losing a brother, Fred Weasley found, could stop everything. The joke shop he ran with his twin brother, George, was closed for a short time. They needed to help arrange things with their parents, besides the fact that, at the moment, they did not find pranks funny. Yes, the Weasley twins had temporarily lost their funny bones. But who could truly blame them? They had lost their younger brother, even if they had not been close. 

But Fred also had a mission. He had promised his younger brother, with an Unbreakable Vow no less, that he would help Hermione in the unlikely chance Ron were to not live through the battle. Ron had to, of course, go out a hero and save Hermione. Leaving Fred to be forced to help Hermione, or face his _own_ death.

And that had _not _been an easy task, convincing Hermione to let him help her. He was so afraid he was actually going to die that he had started writing out his Last Will and Testament! Thankfully, she had come around. If only he could get her to talk to Harry again…

* * *

The next month went by rather quickly for Hermione. Fred started coming around in the morning and eating breakfast with Hermione regularly, and had forced her to set up an appointment with a Healer at St. Mungo's. Of course, it had taken very much to convince her it was the wisest decision. He had already requested that Hermione could take leave on the next Saturday to Professor McGonagall, who had been relieved that Hermione had agreed to visit a Healer finally. The Headmistress had even set up transportation; because she did not want Hermione to Apparate while pregnant (the Healer would need to tell her how to a certain way, now that she was carrying). 

So they went to St. Mungo's, for a two o'clock appointment made by Fred. They found no problems with the child, and, after no incident, they returned to Hogwarts by Apparation.

Of course, Fred did not want them to return exactly back to Hogwarts the second they had arrived in Hogsmeade, so he grabbed Hermione's hand and led her through the mostly empty streets. "Fred," she protested, "We should get back before Professor McGonagall—"

"For once, Hermione," said Fred, "Stop worrying and have fun. You _deserve_ some fun."

She rolled her eyes, because he had been trying to get her to have "_fun" _for a very long time. "I have homework to finish," she continued as they neared the door to the Three Broomsticks.

"I highly doubt you did not complete it all already," he said as he opened the door and led her inside. Resignedly, Hermione sat down in a corner booth. She was surprised to see it the popular spot not more crowded.

Fred arrived a few moments later carrying one butterbeer in each hand. He placed one in front of Hermione and gave her a lopsided grin once she looked at it in disgust. "Don't even say the doctor said you cannot have butterbeer," he said.

She nodded. "He said not to drink!" she insisted.

Rolling his eyes, he pushed it closer to her. "You know you want it," he said, trying to tempt her. "So _warm_ and _tasty_."

Hermione gave him an unreadable look as he pushed it closer. "You're going to push it off the table," she said as matter-of-factly.

Grinning he shook his head, pushing it one inch closer. Once more, she gave him an unreadable look. "Fredrick Weasley," she spoke sternly. "I cannot have a butterbeer and you—"

"The doctor said nothing about butterbeer," he persisted, picking it her cup and holding it under her nose. "Just have one cup, and I promise nothing will go wrong." Once more, he grinned.

She sighed, giving in and taking the cup. She took a few sips and the familiar feeling of warmth washed over her. "When are we going back?" asked Hermione, acting as if they had not argued at all, considerably more relaxed than she had been.

Fred shrugged, truly hoping that they could squeeze another hour into this trip.

Hermione nodded. Lately, Fred had become short of words and would only talk when trying to convince her of something for the baby. Of course, they had several conversations, but he just was not as talkative or humorous as before. In a way, it depressed Hermione. She knew it was from the loss of his brother, and that he was more worried about breaking the vow he had made. "You don't have to be with me every second I am awake," she said suddenly, bringing Fred out of a reverie.

"I need to watch out for you," he said simply. "You get hurt, I get killed."

She cocked an eyebrow. "What were the exact words Ron said?" she asked.

Fred looked down at the table, remembering clearly the ceremony which McGonagall had been the Bonder of.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Eight to go! I posted this chapter a little earlier than I was going to, but that is because the next chapter will probably be a little later than I had **originally** planned. For my updating schedule, please refer to my profile, which has the dates which I plan on updating. 

Again, this story is for Monica. I don't think I've thanked her enough for all she has done for me.

I hope you liked this chapter!

Your Author,

Leii.


	3. Reveries & Remembrance

**Dedicated to:** As I said before, "Monica, duh."**  
**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters.

**On My Own**

**Chapter Three- Reveries & Remembrance **

"_Please, Fred," said Ron, almost begging at this point. "I don't want anything to happen to Hermione if I'm gone. I want to _know_ that there will be someone there for her."_

_It was all too sudden for Fred. He had known Ron and Hermione had been together since the end of sixth year, but he had no idea they were so serious to the point of engagement. "I really don't know, Ron," he said seriously. Why was Ron coming to him, of all people, for help? _

_Ron looked away; Fred could see the tears forming. "She's going to have a baby, Fred," he said suddenly; quietly. "I _need _to know someone is there for them _both_."_

_Why did he have to play the sympathy card? Fred sighed, giving in. "Fine," he said. _

_Ron smiled and left Fred alone in the small room. He returned several minutes later, only he wasn't alone. Following closely behind was the strict Professor McGonagall. Before Fred could react or remark, Ron was telling McGonagall the entire story from start to finish. Ending with how Hermione was pregnant. A look of shock registered across the old witch's face momentarily. "Ms. Granger?" she had exclaimed. _

_Ron nodded, continuing. He finally told her that she needed to help them perform an Unbreakable Vow; that she needed to be their Bonder._

_She looked at them both for a few moments as she contemplated what to do. Hesitantly, she removed her wand from the pocket of her robes. The aging professor took a deep breath before she spoke. "I hope you boys know what you are doing," she said._

_Ron smiled at her. "I know what I'm doing professor," he assured her. He looked at Fred and they grasped right hands._

_The professor stepped forward and placed the tip of her wand on their linked hands. _

_Ron looked Fred in the eyes and spoke."Will you, Fred, watch over Hermione Granger and the child she is carrying if something is to happen to me during this battle?"_

_Fred nodded his head. "I will." _

_Instantly, a skeletal tongue of luminous flame erupted from the tip of Professor McGonagall's wand, winding around their hands, glowing red. Ron continued, unblinkingly, "And will you watch over the baby as if it were your own?"_

_He looked at his brother unsurely, but did not release his hand. "I will." Another flame shot out from the wand and formed a glowing chain around their linked hands. _

"_And will you, if I don't make it tonight, make sure that both of them remain alive and well, even if it may cause you yourself harm?"_

_He looked at his brother one more time, except now, he was sure. He knew that he needed to do this _one _thing for his brother; he needed to be serious today. Something inside him told him that it would be the biggest regret of his life if he did not make this promise. So Fred did what a loyal brother would do. "I will," he said. A third flame was emitted from the professor's wand and it formed a thick chain around their hands. In that moment, Fred's fate was sealed, even if he didn't know it. The wheels were in motion for something that would change several peoples lives in an almost drastic way.  
_

_The professor looked at them both, sympathy in her eyes as she stowed away her wand. "You've done a good thing, Fred," she said, clasping him briefly on the shoulder. She sniffled suddenly. "We all knew this day would come. Let's just hope it ends the way we all want it to."_

_Ron, who seemed to have been a different person that day, embraced Professor McGonagall quickly. "Thank you, Professor," he said. "If Hermione knew, she'd only love you more."_

_She chuckled. Suddenly, she looked down at her watch. "I must be going right now, there is so much more to arrange," she turned away from them and was about to exit when she unexpectedly turned back around to them. "Professor Dumbledore, when we used to discuss the inevitable battle, would always tell me the same thing."_

_Fred and Ron looked at each other unsurely, not knowing what the late Headmaster had always said._

"_Remember: eagles may soar, but weasels don't get sucked into jet engines," she told them with a grin._

_Fred laughed while Ron cocked an eyebrow. "How is that supposed to be helpful?" he asked curiously._

_Her grin widened. "I have no idea," she answered. "But he said it was award-winning advice."_

_---_

After sharing this memory with Hermione, Fred felt better. Like it had been some big secret he could not contain inside any longer. Her reaction was something unexpected. She laughed.

"Ron was _serious_?" she asked, still laughing. "Are you sure?"

"Uh… as sure as my name is Fred Weasley," he said.

She jokingly cocked an eyebrow. "Are you _sure _about that?"

He couldn't help but grin at her momentary silliness. "Yes, Hermione, I'm sure."

"Who said I was Hermione?"

"Are you feeling all right?"

"I'm pregnant; of course I'm not feeling all right."

Rolling his eyes, he took a long drag from his butterbeer. From the corner of his eyes, he saw Hermione do the same, finishing off hers. She put it down on the table. He swallowed the last of his own and placed the empty bottle on the table next to hers. They sat in silence for a few moments.

Hermione was the one to break it. "You won't die, Fred," she said.

He had started tracing circles with his finger on the table, and looked up at her words. "You'll let me help you, then?"

She shrugged. "It's what Ron wanted."

"I have a feeling we've done this before," said Fred.

"We did, but this past month was really just a trial."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Oh."

"Don't you say "oh" like you didn't know! I told you!"

"Did not."

"Did too."

"Did not!"

"I did too, Fredrick Weasley!"

He groaned. Once Hermione used your full name, you knew it was time to surrender. "Maybe in your delirious mind," he muttered.

She grinned, knowing it was too easy to get him to give in. Unlike Ron, Fred was not stubborn. On occasion he might show the stubbornness his mother had given all her children, but he was not like Ron. The more Hermione mused the more she realized that they only had a few things in common: red hair, blood and siblings. They both even had blue eyes, but completely different blue eyes. Ron's had been dark, like the ocean. While Fred's… Fred's were just lighter, always twinkling with mischief and thoughts of pranking someone.

Her grin faded some as she looked into Fred's eyes now. They weren't how she remembered them. She remembered twinkling, and happiness. All she saw now was sadness; worry.

"What's wrong?" she heard Fred asked her suddenly, pulling her out of her reverie. She shook her head and look down at the table.

"Nothing," she answered.

"You really should talk to Harry," he suddenly said, abruptly changing the subject of their conversation to the subject that he was currently mulling over in his mind.

She sighed, she had known this was going to come up in conversation sooner or later. "I don't want to talk about this, Fred," she said. "Not now anyway."

He nodded understandingly. "I want you to know, though, that Harry misses you. A lot."

---

They left the Three Broomsticks not too long after and headed back to the castle. It was starting to get dark and a little chilly outside. Hermione looked up at the castle, which seemed to glow in the sunset. She suddenly remembered the first time she entered; how happy she had been. But another memory invaded, ruining her unexpected happiness.

It had only been a little over two months that they had arrived at Hogwarts castle to finish the Second War. The walk into the castle that time had been anything but cheerful. It was a depressing time. It was the last time for many they knew.

It had been Ron's last time.

If she had known it was his last time, what would she have done? Would she have stopped him from stepping through those doors?

Of course, if Hermione thought further on the subject, it was strangely fitting that he had died on the school grounds. She couldn't say exactly why it seemed right, it just _did_. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that it was some place they all loved. Maybe it was also because she would always know where to go to remember him. (Not that she would ever forget him.)

She smiled at the thought that Ron would never _truly _be gone. Wasn't she carrying a part of Ron inside her at that very moment? The child that she had growing inside of her, was it not a piece of Ron?

Without thinking, Hermione pulled Fred on a short detour. They had past the castle gates, and, without words, she led Fred across the grounds to an all too familiar spot. The tears she was expecting, however, never came. The sadness she had expected to wash over her did not consume her. Instead, she was left with only her memory of the spot she was standing on.

Hermione knew that life would never be the same without Ron, but also knew that she had to move on, for the sake of the baby growing inside of her. She knew that she could never have Ron back with her, and she accepted it. She had finally accepted Ron's death.

And it felt good.

---

The tell-tale bump had arrived a few weeks earlier. However much she had tried to deny it then, she couldn't anymore. Her once flat stomach was now protruding slightly, and it aggravated her greatly. She now had to actually _use _the spells which Mrs. Weasley taught her to conceal her stomach. Fred, once she had told him about this, only laughed with Runty.

"What was Miss expecting?" the little house-elf had asked while placing a strawberry smoothie (which was her current craving) in front of her.

"I didn't think it would happen so soon!" she told them.

Runty laughed once more. "I'm surprised you did not start showing earlier," he informed her. "Mistress started showing at exactly three months." (Hermione still did not know who Runty's "Mistress" had been.)

She groaned. "But I don't _want _to show!" whined Hermione.

"Runty taught Miss many charms and spell," he said.

"I know," she sighed, taking a sip.

Fred took a sip of his own smoothie. "Mum looked like a whale when she was carrying Ron," Fred added. "And then she was like the Titanic with Ginny. I guess it differs. I doubt you'll look like the Titanic. I can see you as the Giant Squid maybe..."

"Why thank you for your words of kindness."

Fred saluted to her as he gulped down the rest of his smoothie.

Hermione glanced up at the clock. "I should really get going to class," she said, sighing once more.

"Want to meet for lunch?"

"I can't," said Hermione, causing Fred's face to fall. "There's a prefect meeting tonight," she explained further. "We still have to select the new passwords; we have to do it at lunch."

Fred pouted. "But you always have lunch with _me_," he whined, sounding much like a five-year old.

Smiling, Hermione retorted, "Along with breakfast, dinner and any other mealtime I make up to deal with my cravings."

She turned, and was about to leave the kitchen when Runty called her back. "Runty almost forgot to tell Miss that he's arranged for you to met your midwife before Christmas," he told her sheepishly, looking down at his feet. "She was most delighted to hear from me again, and would be happy to help you."

The day could not get any better.

For the first time in a long time, she actually felt good. The nausea she had been experiencing almost never occurred anymore; she could actually eat a full meal and _digest _it. The only thing that _really _was bothering her recently was that she had to go to the bathroom once each class.

And people noticed.

Of course, they already knew that she was pregnant and all. Still, it was slightly embarrassing when she had to raise her hand in every class and request to use the lavatory.

This thought, however, could not put a damper on her day. Neither could the other thoughts she had, from reading books that Runty had provided for her, about the other things she would experience during her second trimester. She hummed merrily as she headed for Transfiguration, her first class that sunny morning. She was the first to arrive, and quickly seated herself in her usual seat, the one closest to Professor McGonagall's desk. Even being pregnant could not stop Hermione's love of learning (even if she was starting to forget things often due to the pregnancy).

The rest of her morning classes went as they normally did. Besides the fact that she needed to go to the bathroom during every class, she felt perfectly fine as she walked back to her dormitory for lunch. She quickly deposited her bag (which Runty had somehow charmed to practically carry itself) in her room and went into the Common Room to wait for Blaise Zabini to return from whatever class he had just had. She did not wait long, for he came in just as she was placing an overstuffed pillow underneath her feet.

"I'll be out in one second," he had told her, opening the door to his own room. He came back several minutes later, carrying several pieces of paper in one hand, and two quills in another. He handed her half of the papers, and one of the quills. She was glad it was one that did not need an ink bottle, because she had become prone to knocking those over recently. "I think that we should deal with the Slytherin password first."

She rolled her eyes at this. "Of course, you _are _a Slytherin."

"You can make it up for all I care," he said, scribbling on the parchment he had in his lap, a book beneath it to act as a table.

"This is not going to get us anywhere," she said impatiently. "You said that last time, and last time you rejected all four of my suggestions!"

"Well, Hermione," he explained, "I think 'Muggle-borns rule' would cause some problems, along with 'Purebloods suck' and 'All hail Muggles.'"

"You forgot 'Harry Potter rocks my socks.'"

She grinned as he gave her a pointed look. Of course, they had _eventually_ decided on picking a random word from the dictionary the last time (well, Hermione thought of it _really_), "bete noire". From what she gathered, no one really knew what it meant, so no harm done.

It only took them about twenty minutes to come up with the new passwords for the four houses. For Slytherin, they had chosen "vituperation" (they literally had conjured a dictionary this time for random words); Gryffindor got "seriatim"; Hufflepuff received "solarium". Ravenclaw's password, however, took the longest to decide.

"It can't be something _big_, because people _expect _the Ravenclaw password to be a difficult word," she debated.

"I don't see why it is important," said Blaise, "If someone is going to take the time to research what the Ravenclaw password is, I don't think a password is going to stop whatever they are planning!"

"But it can't be something _obvious,"_ she persisted. "It has to be something silly, like "bowl" or something."

"I don't understand why we are debating this," he replied. "This is a fruitless debate."

Her eyes sparkled. "That's it, "fruitless"," she spoke almost excitedly, like they had found the cure for a tropical disease. "I'm so happy I could _kiss_ you."

Blaise seemed to flush slightly at the comment. "If you really want... I guess," he said quietly, scribbling the password down on his parchment.

"I was only joking, Blaise," she said. "I wouldn't want my Mudblo—"

"Don't insult yourself," he quickly stopped her suddenly, stopping his writing abruptly and looking up at her. They sat in an awkward silence as he stared intently at Hermione. The silence was broken, however, when Blaise said "Would you consider yourself my friend?"

For what seemed like the millionth time that day, Hermione furrowed her brow. "What?"

He sighed deeply, setting his quill down gently. "Am I just the Head boy that you _have _to talk to, or am I actually a friend to you?"

She shifted uncomfortably under his intent stare. "You're just _Blaise Zabini_," she answered lamely.

His face fell for a moment it seemed, but he suddenly smirked. "Good, I wouldn't want a Mudblood as a friend anyway," he remarked before standing quickly with his parchments and quill in hand and stormed off to his room. He slammed the door so hard the room shook.

Hermione sat questioning this action for a few moments, but rid herself of the thoughts when she realized it would ruin her almost-perfect day. Sighing, she stood, heading back to her room to grab her backpack. Once she swung it over her shoulder, she knew something was wrong. A sudden wave of dizziness hit her, and she was sure that she was about to faint. Of course, dizziness was common during pregnancy, and she had experienced it before. But it had never been so strong to the point of fainting.

So she did the only thing she could think of at the moment. "BLAISE!" she yelled, dropping her bag with a loud _thud_ and leaning against the wall. "BLAISE!"

She heard the door open and heard the frustrated groan Blaise gave. "What _now_?" he asked impatiently.

"In here," she said as loudly as she could. He came in, and his brown eyes landed on her.

"What's wrong with you?" he inquired, raising an elegant eyebrow.

"I feel so dizzy," she answered. "Call Runty for me, will you?"

"Can't you do it yourself?"

"Just—"

That's when everything went black for Hermione; that's when she fainted, her eyes rolling backwards as Blaise rushed forward to prevent her from falling. He gently laid her on the floor, summoning a pillow to prop her head on. He recalled her saying something about Runty, and knew that it was the house-elf which he had seen helping and advising her. He snapped his fingers and said "Runty!" Almost instantly, a little, blue house-elf appeared with a _crack_.

"Miss?" he squeaked upon seeing Hermione.

"She fainted," said Blaise.

"That's obvious, sir," said Runty, kneeling beside her. He snapped his fingers, and a bowl of what looked like steaming water appeared, a rag inside. The house elf rung out the rag and gently patted Hermione's face with it. He did this several more times.

"Uh... I'm not an expert, but how is water going to help her?"

"It's not water, sir," the house elf answered. "It's a special vitamin enriched potion that will help Miss become strong once more and wake up."

Blaise pulled out his wand. "Do you want me to revive her?"

He shook his head. "No, sir," he said. "That could harm the child." Blaise watched the elf at work for a few minutes before Runty spoke again. "I request that you go find Mister Fred; he would want to know about this."

Blaise nodded and turned away from the house-elf. He had seen the red-head more than enough since the start of term, and knew that he would probably find him wandering aimlessly near Gryffindor tower. The Weasley, he remembered, was one of the twins who had done many pranks during their time at Hogwarts. Of course, like all, he remembered in specific the time when they had left the school. Even if they were Gryffindors, they sure knew how to go out with a _bang_. Literally.

Lost in his musings, he arrived at the tower. Afternoon classes would be started soon, and he did not want to be late to his favorite class, Arithmancy. A quick look around told him that the Weasley was not in the tower so he turned to—

Run into Harry sodding Potter. Who did not even seem to be worried that Blaise Zabini, a Slytherin, was wandering around near the entrance to Gryffindor tower.

"Do you know where Weasley is?" he asked. Potter's eyes narrowed dangerously.

Suddenly, Blaise found himself pinned against the wall. "If you're trying to pull a joke," he said in a low, dangerous voice, "That one is even lower than I thought a _Slytherin _could go."

"I meant the one Hermione has been around lately!"

He raised his eyebrows so high they were almost lost underneath his mess of hair. "You mean Fred?" he asked Blaise. He nodded fervently and Harry, becoming considerably more nicer, released him. "Fred went to manage the store for a few hours; I don't know when he'll be back."

"Well," Blaise said impatiently, turning away. "Tell him Hermione fainted and—"

That was the point in his exit when Potter grabbed his arm to stop him. "_What_?" he asked worriedly.

Blaise brushed off his arm. "I _said _that Hermione fainted."

His face suddenly fell, as if his worse fears had been confirmed. "Where is she?"

Blaise rolled his eyes. Potter _always _had to act the bloody hero, didn't he? Sighing annoyedly, to show the scar-head his impatience, he told him.

"Can you bring me there?"

Was he only capable of asking questions? Seriously. Once again, Blaise sighed in an annoyed fashion before turning around and, without checking to see if Potter was following, headed for his dormitory. They arrived just as the bell rang, signaling five minutes until the start of afternoon classes. Blaise gestured towards Hermione's bedroom and headed for his own so he could pick up his bag and rush to Arithmancy.

He did not want to be in the middle of their reunion, however bad he felt for leaving Hermione in such a state. He felt quite bad for her, having to deal with school _and _be pregnant. Not to mention the fact that the father of the child she was carrying was dead. Although, Blaise didn't understand _why _he felt bad for the Mudblood. She had said it herself, he was _just Blaise Zabini_.

---

Hermione searched all around for a light, but could not find any. She heard her name being called by a familiar voice... someone she knew. But she could not place a name or face to that voice. "Hermione," they called repeatedly in a desperate way. The frantic tone they used told her something must be wrong, but she couldn't open her eyes; she couldn't leave the darkness.

"Hermione, please," they begged. "_Just wake up_." They sounded almost tearful now. Suddenly, she was released from the darkness. Taking one big gasp of breath, she let her eyes open. Light flooded her view. But the green eyes of the young man standing above her she could make out; those green eyes were unforgettable. It was Harry.

She sat up quickly. "Harry!" she exclaimed. Suddenly, little elf hands were urging her to lie back. She did as Runty requested and found that she was on her bed. How she got there, she could only guess.

The Boy-Who-Lived smiled down at her. "You're awake," he said softly. "What happened to you?"

"I felt really dizzy, like a normal fit I would get," she explained, propping herself up with her pillows. "But this time, everything went black."

"It's not bad to faint," Runty spoke up, handing Hermione a cup of water. Well, it looked like water; it tasted like— "Miss just needs to watch how much stuff she is carrying. Runty did not notice that Miss had added a few books to her knapsack. You need to watch how much you carry, Miss."

Harry looked at the house-elf with an amused look on his face. "Don't worry, Runty," he said, "I'll carry her back for her whenever I can; I'll also be sure she's not carrying too heavy of a load."

Runty smiled at Harry. "Runty appreciates that the Boy-Who-Lived would do that," he thanked.

"Call me Ha—"

Hermione nudged him. She remembered all too well the time she had insisted Runty call her "Hermione." The poor little house elf had started sobbing, dropping to the floor to smack her head against it.

"You're welcome," Harry quickly covered up.

"Runty must go now, Miss," the house elf said, seeming to not notice what had happened. With a _crack _the house-elf had disappeared.

Harry looked around the room casually as an awkward silence fell over them. After a few minutes, Hermione couldn't take it. "What are you doing here, Harry?"

"I'm making sure my best friend is doing all right," he answered nonchalantly. As if the last month of them not even looking at each other had not happened; as if they had not just had the worst fight in the history of their friendship.

"Why didn't you ask me this before?"

He was looking at the pictures she had on her dresser, holding one taken of Harry, Ron and Hermione during the summer, right after they returned from Hogwarts. Due to something that Ron had said, Hermione and Harry were both smiling. Of course, Ron was clueless that what he said was funny and was looking at them like they were insane. Without looking up, Harry answered, "Because I wasn't sure what would come out of my mouth."

"What were you afraid of saying to me?" she continued her inquiry.

He sighed. Something he usually did not do. Usually, he'd groan, or roll his eyes. But this time, he _sighed_. "I was afraid of telling you it was your fault Ron was gone," he explained, looking at the picture mournfully still. "I didn't want to say that, because I knew it wasn't true." He put the picture down and looked up at Hermione with grief in his green eyes. "I wanted someone to blame, Hermione; I knew I would end up blaming you," he continued. "So I decided it was best to just not talk to you. I didn't know how long it would be before I could again: weeks, months, years. I _wanted _to blame you, because he died _for_ you. I wanted to scream at you for it," his voice started cracking. "But I _couldn't,_ Hermione," tears filled his eyes. "He loved you and I can't blame you for that."

The tears which had seemed to abandon Hermione a month earlier returned at the site of his green eyes filling with their own tears; at his words of apology.

"I wanted to _hate_ you," he continued as a tear escaped and ran down his cheek. "But I couldn't Hermione, because I love you too much."

Hermione sniffled, wiping her eyes. Harry had somehow ended up standing next to her bed; before Hermione could control herself, she was kneeling on her bed with her arms wrapped around Harry's shoulders, hugging him like she never had. Harry's face ended up lost in her bushy hair; his arms wrapped tightly around her, wanting never to let go of her again.

Who knows how long they stayed like that, only that, by the time they had let go of each other, afternoon classes had ended and Blaise had reentered the common room. That was, of course, the reason they initially broke apart. Blaise had come to inform her that he had given the Prefects the new dormitory passwords and told them that they were to go in affect midnight the next day.

Harry helped Hermione off the bed as Blaise returned to his own room. "Do you want to go and find Fred?" he asked her as she put on her shoes.

She shrugged. "He usually finds me," she told him.

Harry smiled. "Fred is taking something serious, is he?"

"Yeah, I think he is," she said, standing up. She linked hands with Harry, grinning as they left the dormitory and headed for Gryffindor tower.

"Do what did your parents say when you told them they were going to be grandparents?" he asked conversationally as they headed up the Grand Staircase.

Hermione groaned. "I told them right after Ron died, and they insist that I do everything the Muggle way," she informed him. "Actually, I'm going to visit them tomorrow," –it was Friday– "They want me to go to the doctor Mum went to when she was carrying me, for a sonogram. They promise they'll pay for it, they just want something that they're familiar with to remember this by."

Harry nodded understandingly and said the password to the Fat Lady ("blubber-fuss"), who swung open after smiling at the two of them. When they entered the Common Room, Hermione felt the sudden warmth and homey feeling she always used to have at Hogwarts. The walls seemed not to betray her anymore. The world seemed to start spinning once more as the pieces of Hermione's life were picked up and put back into place.

She greeted the people she knew, and smiled at the ones she did not. Harry brought her to the boy's dormitory, which was at the top of the tower now, and he took out his Firebolt (which had yet to have a successor faster than it). To Hermione's surprise, however, he had something for her: Ron's old broom.

The Cleansweep which Ron used to ride was still in good condition, Hermione noted as she held it in her hand. But she looked up at Harry, unsure of what she was doing with it. "Let's go for a ride," he said, his eyes sparkling a way Hermione had never seem them, "For Ron."

And so they went to the Quidditch pitch, not knowing and not caring whether or not anyone was there. Even if Hermione was deathly scared of flying (not to mention pregnant), it was for Ron. Whatever kind of closure it was, it was closure for Harry. He needed to accept Ron's death like Hermione had, and this way only seemed right.

---

The next day came with a dense fog covering Hogwart's grounds. A not-too-tall figure walked through it, trying to make it on time for the breakfast he had planned to have with Hermione Granger before they left for her parent's house and a doctor's appointment. Students were used to seeing him by now, and greeted him. Even the professors were glad to see him back at Hogwarts. McGonagall (remembering the Vow he had made) had given him special permission to come any time he found it necessary .

But when Fred Weasley arrived at the kitchen, he found no Hermione. Runty had informed him excitedly that "Miss" had started to eat in the Great Hall. It seemed strange that she would do this when she did not want to eat with anyone, especially when she usually had the strangest craving in the morning. So he headed back upstairs and into the Great Hall. Breakfast was in full swing, and everyone seemed to be there this morning. But through the crowd, he found her.

She was actually smiling, talking to Harry and Ginny animatedly as she spread some butter on her toast. He cocked an eyebrow as he headed for them. "'Ello, Hermione," he greeted as he sat down next to her. "You seemed to have forgotten something this morning."

Her eyes widened and she frowned. "I'm so sorry, Fred," she said sincerely. "When Harry invited me to breakfast earlier this morning I completely forgot!"

He shrugged. "It's okay," he said, "I just hope you didn't forget that we have to go to your parent's house later. I even dressed like a Muggle for the day." He held out his arms and he definitely was dressed like a Muggle: plain jeans, which were slightly baggy, and a black short-sleeved shirt underneath a gray hooded sweatshirt.

"I was wondering if I could take Harry with me instead," she said, rubbing the back of her neck. "If you don't mind..."

Fred's face fell. For some reason, he had been looking forward to spending time outside of Hogwarts with Hermione once more. He quickly recovered himself. "I don't mind at all," he lied, standing up. "I might as well get back to the store. George will be quite happy, seeing as I never let him give him anytime to himself. Although, I have no idea what he actually does when he's not at work... maybe that's a good thing." He threw them all a fake grin and winked before leaving the Great Hall and going back out into the thick fog covering the grounds. Fred was happy that Hermione and Harry were friends once more, for he knew that it was good for both of them. But, for some odd reason, he felt a little tug at his heart when he realized she wouldn't need him around as much anymore. Maybe not even at all.

---

"Harry, slow down," panted Hermione as they walked into Hogsmeade, arms linked once more, although Harry was a good step or two in front of Hermione.

He grinned as he slowed down to her pace. "Sorry," he apologized. She nodded in acceptance as they neared the Apparation Point. She made sure she clung onto Harry tight once they reached it, and the scenery changed in front of her as they spun. Suddenly, they were standing in front of her house.

It was a simple brick house with a chimney and two floors (not including the attic which was only storage). The sparkling white door, behind the simple glass one, welcomed Hermione, along with the mat in front of it reading "The Grangers". She smiled as she pulled Harry up the walk.

"This is your house?" he asked, sounding surprised. Harry had not expected this. Although, he wasn't exactly sure _what _he had been expecting.

Hermione nodded as she rang the doorbell. The white door opened to reveal a woman Harry had not seen in a very long time. He could tell that she was very glad to be back in her own home (having been forced to move into another during the summer for safety). She looked more worn, there were several wrinkles around her eyes that had not been there the last time. Her mouth curled upwards upon setting eyes on Hermione and Harry and she hastily opened the glass door separating them. "RICHARD!" she screamed, calling Hermione's father. "SHE'S HERE!"

She rushed to hug Hermione tightly, than turned to Harry. "If it isn't Mr. Harry Potter," she said excitedly, smiling, "I was wondering when I'd see you again."

Harry returned the smile. "It's great to see you again."

Hermione's father came out just then and enveloped Hermione in a short embrace, shaking Harry's hand before inviting them inside the house. They were led into a comfy, but clean, looking living room, and knew Ms. Granger must have liked cleaning just as much as his Aunt Petunia. The large television reminded Harry that it was a Muggle household. They talked casually for a few minutes before Hermione glanced at her watch. "Are you driving us to the doctor's?" she asked. The appointment, Harry remembered, was at twelve that after noon. It was only ten, according the clock Hermione had looked at.

Mr. Granger nodded. "But we won't be coming in with you," he said. "Your mother and I"—oh, they were _definitely _Hermione's parents—"Are going to go shopping at the stores that are down the street. For baby things, of course."

Hermione furrowed her brow. "I thought I was just going to take all that you keep from when I was a baby?" she asked.

"Well, you are," her mother said. "But we want to start stocking up on bottles and other things like that."

Hermione tried to talk her parents out of it, saying that she would buy those things with her own money later. They, of course, told her that even if she spent all of the money she had saved up she would still need more. "Mother, I can use _magic _if you don't remember," she reminded them. "I can transfigure things and cleans things with _magic_."

"An excuse to be lazy! No offense to you, Harry," she politely turned to Harry and added.

---

Harry's mind was spinning as they piled into the car. Hermione's family knew how to debate very well, and had gone at it for over an hour. The pros and cons of using magic, and the influence it could have on the baby.

"There is a one in five-hundred chance that my child will not have the ability to use magic," she explained. "And even if they turn out to be non-magical, I want them to know about me. I'm not going to hide who I am from my own child."

Harry wasn't sure whether or not to add his opinion (that physically doing things was a pain in the arse), so he refrained from speaking at all. He wasn't sure whether or not Hermione's parents understood that Hermione having a child was different then them having a child. She _wanted _to raise it accepting _both_ worlds, and Harry understood that. She had never spoken any narrow-mindedness towards either side, and knew she did not want her child to either. It _was _her child after all.

It was only five minutes to twelve when they pulled up in front of the doctor's office and let them out of the car. "Her office is on the third floor," her mother said out the window as Hermione kissed her on the cheek. "Don't forget to ask for the sonogram and give them your insurance card."

They went up the elevator, on Harry's insistence, and found the office with no problem. After signing a few papers, and showing them her insurance card, they sat in the waiting room on a very uncomfortable couch.

"You'd think that an obstetrician's office would have more comfortable furniture," he said in a hushed voice, sounding somewhat amused.

"Obstetrician, Harry?"

"You're the pregnant one, so you should know that an obstetrician is a doctor that deals with the care of a woman during pregnancy, birth, and the recovery period afterwards," he answered. It was very strange to Hermione that he seemed to know so much about obstetrics.

"And you know this how?" she asked curiously, raising and eyebrow.

He gave her his best lopsided grin. "That's what a laminated paper hanging in the elevator said."

Hermione couldn't stop herself from laughing out loud. While Harry tried to make her be quiet, for they were gaining many stares from others in the waiting room, a door on the left of the receptionist's desk opened and out came a very friendly looking woman in a white coat, a stethoscope over her neck. "Granger, Hermione Granger?" she called out.

Hermione stood and walked to the woman. She must have noticed Harry wasn't following her and turned back to him. "Harry, come on," she said urgently. He stood unsurely.

"Are you positive you want me in there?" he asked as they walked down a hallway.

"Of course," she answered. "Why wouldn't I?"

"I'm Doctor Lumley," the obstetrician interrupted politely. Harry thought he heard the traces of an Irish accent. "I'm guessing you're the father." Yep, definitely and Iri—

"No," both Hermione and Harry said at once. "He's gone."

The doctor raised an eyebrow. "I'm sorry to hear about your loss," she said comfortingly. How she knew that they were saying "gone" in the sense that he was dead was beyond both of them. "It must be very hard, being pregnant without the father."

"I've got Harry," Hermione smiled. "And the father's older brother, Fred, is helping me a lot."

Dr. Lumley smiled sympathetically as she opened a door. "I'm just wondering why you didn't come earlier in the pregnancy," she said as she gestured them inside. "I mean, surely you must have notice _something _was going on."

Hermione blushed. "I... we had other means of medical care," she answered.

"I see," the doctor was scribbling something onto a clipboard Harry had not noticed her carrying. "You're mother called and wanted to make sure you got a sonogram."

"Actually," said Hermione. "I am only here really _for _a sonogram. As I said, we have other means of medical care where I live."

"And where would that be?"

"Southeastern Scotland," she answered. "I have a midwife that I am meeting later today, and I already have several appointments set up with a doctor there. I just wanted to make my mum happy and see you like she wanted."

The doctor asked Hermione a few questions about things that have happened to her; how she feels. Harry was relieved when she told about the day before and the bout of dizziness that overcame her and the fainting.

"Fainting can be normal during pregnancy," Dr. Lumley had said. "As long as it isn't happening every single day."

Hermione shook her head. "This was the first time I fainted," she explained. The doctor noted that on her clipboard.

"Now, you were sure to drink lots of liquid before arriving, correct?" To Harry, this seemed like a strange question.

"Yes, I'd really like to use to loo," Hermione joked.

"Well, we need your bladder to be full for the best quality sonogram," she said, opening the door to the room and gesturing for them to follow her. "We keep the ultra-sound machines just across the hall," she explained as she unlocked a door just across the corridor. Hermione went in just as the door opened and sat on the comfy looking examination table. Hermione, unsurprisingly, was very excited. The night before, she had stayed up reading a very interesting Muggle book on sonograms and how they work. Dr. Lumley instructed Hermione to lie backwards. Before Harry could realize what was going on, a machine was turned on, Hermione's shirt was lifted so her stomach was revealed, and the doctor was applying what she said was a "water gel" to Hermione's stomach.

On the screen was a picture that looked nothing like a baby to Harry.

"That's a baby?" exclaimed Harry. The doctor and Hermione both chuckled. It was a typical male reaction to seeing a sonogram.

"Yes, Harry," said Hermione, still giggling, "That's a baby. _My _baby." Harry gave the young woman an unsure look before looking back at the screen. It was a black screen, with moving images (that did look like anything _but _a baby) highlighted by white.

"I don't get it," he said. "Where is the baby?" The doctor showed Harry the baby's features with her figure on the screen, but only confused him more. "How is _that _a nose?"

They ignored his further attempts at getting them to explain where exactly the baby was, and soon the doctor was asking Hermione if she wanted to know her baby's gender.

Hermione bit her bottom lip unsurely and looked at Harry. "I don't know," she said. "What do you think, Harry?"

"I'm still trying to figure out _where _the baby is," he said as he squnited at the screen once more. "I don't think telling me its sex is going to help me do that."

"I think I'm going to leave it as a surprise," said Hermione once she had made up her mind.

Dr. Lumley printed off a copy of the sonogram for Hermione's parents. She was just about to turn off the machine when--

"I almost forgot! Do you want to listen to your baby's heartbeat?"

Hermione nodded fervently, not needing to think about it. The doctor unplugged the headphones that had been attached to the machine, and the sound of a baby's heartbeat filled the room. It was very rapid, and Hermione's heartbeat was also mixed in, but she could tell which was which.

Already, Hermione had fallen in love with her baby.

---

Harry sat with Hermione as they waited for a taxi to pick them up outside of the building. Hermione wasn't sure if Harry knew about the Unbreakable Vow Fred had made with Ron, and asked him if he had.

"What are you talking about?" he asked curiously, cocking an eyebrow.

She had expected this. It seemed very unlikely that Fred had told him, and she doubted Ginny had any idea of it either. There was no doubt in Hermione's mind that Harry needed to know about this. So she told him everything, and then some. At first, she just explained the Unbreakable Vow, but, suddenly, she was telling him about _everything _that had happened since they fought. From the fight with Mrs. Weasley, to the doctor's appointment she had at St. Mungo's. Once she finished, she felt oddly relieved. It was like her probably were no longer as big as they had been. As if telling Harry had been the only remedy she really had ever needed.

Just as she had finished, a yellow taxi pulled up in front of them. Harry smiled at Hermione and opened the door for her. He climbed in behind her as she spoke with the driver. "Southwest Mall," she said. The driver nodded and accelerated quickly. The ride was short, due to the driver's speediness. They paid him the fare, without a tip, and exited the car.

"What are we going to do here?" he asked as they walked in the entrance.

She gave him an incredulous look. "Shop, of course!"

And shop they did. They went into a baby store (several actually, they all just seemed the same to Harry). Each time they came out, Harry was forced to carry another bag or two. "Are we almost done?" he would ask each time, only to receive a look from Hermione like "Of course not!" It was another hour before she admitted to him that her feet were tired and they rested on a bench. Then she decided it was time to go to the bathroom again (because she had already gone several times) and left Harry alone on the bench to watch the world move around him.

If he had tried to do this only a few months earlier, sit and watch the world go by, there would probably have been a few people following him, some good; some bad. With Voldemort gone though, he had found freedom. He could do the normal things that he had never really been able to do. Like sit and relax, with nothing to worry his mind. Of course, he was worried about Hermione and the baby. He didn't mind worrying about Hermione though.

Harry realized he had stopped walking away; he had finally turned around. In that instance, all seemed back to normal; everything was the same as it once had been.

All was right.

---

**Author's Note**: Yes, that was the **longest** chapter yet. I believe over seventeen pages long. But it had to be done, because I don't want to go over the limit I set of only ten chapters. I was going to split it into two parts, but I knew that I would not be able to find the time this weekend to post them at seperate times, due to it being my b-day weekend and I'm having a party.

For those who don't already know, this story is for my wonderful beta, and one of my bestest friends, Monica. How's that for Harry characterization? Is he still too harsh? I think that I made him as the comic relief more... hmmm... how about we blame him for that one? ;-)

Three out of ten so far, only seven more to go. I hope you liked that chapter. Leave me your thoughts. :-D

Your Author,

Leii.


	4. Kicks & Cries

**Disclaimer- I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters.**

**On My Own**  
**  
Chapter Four- Kicks & Cries**

Suddenly, it was almost December. How Hermione had made it through, she did not know. The meeting with her midwife had gone good, thankfully, and everything was arranged. Her name was Maureen, and insisted that Hermione call her that. Maureen had told her to stick to the diet that Runty had her on, and she would be fine.

But, gradually, Hermione's good mood depleted. She was nearing the last month of her second trimester, and the last symptoms of it were starting to kick in.

Since the sonogram her stomach had grown. Then, she did not really have a need to use concealing charms so she could wear her own clothing. But _now_, after gaining several more inches and losing her waistline, there was no way she could _forget _to conceal her bump. Although, according to Fred, whose number of visits had depleted greatly since Harry started helping out, she couldn't really call it a "bump" anymore, due to it being the size of a watermelon.

And while she was rather proud of how large her breasts had grown, she concealed those too (after tweaking one of the stomach concealing charms). But another thing Hermione noticed was how people seemed to be commenting more on her appearance, and not in a negative way. Harry actually said several times that she looked like she was glowing.

However, as December came nearer, Hermione felt worse. The excitement and delight she had felt earlier was suddenly gone, only to be replaced by anxiousness and low self-esteem. She absolutely _hated _looking at herself in the mirror. If someone were to compliment her appearance now, they would receive an annoyed "thanks" and a glare for the rest of the day. She had grown from being a confident woman, to an insecure pregnant teenager. And she utterly loathed herself for it.

She would find herself tearing up at random point during the day, for no reason whatsoever. During Transfiguration, Harry had to usher her from the room when she started sobbing while they practiced transfiguring their desks into animals that Professor McGonagall called out.

Then there was all the baby things piled in her room, some opened, others not. They had brought back several boxes full of Hermione's old baby things from her parent's house. Along with the new things, half of her room was being taken up. As a surprise, Fred had snuck into her dormitory and built the crib, changing table, and swing. Of course, when she walked in she burst into tears once more.

But everyone seemed used to it now. Harry would just hold her until she had reduced to sniffling; Fred would do the same, only he would tell her funny stories. Hermione had to say that Fred's way seemed to help much more than Harry's.

That was another thing, Fred. She constantly had a nagging feeling, whenever something happened, that she needed to contact him right away. She would always shake it from her mind and continue, but one time in particular she _knew _that Fred needed to be contacted. Even if it was in the middle of Arithmancy.

She shot her hand up after she realized what had just happened. "Professor!" she said urgently. He raised an eyebrow, seeing as he had just been in the middle of a lecture. "May I be excused?"

He nodded impatiently and Hermione quickly gathered her things and rushed from the classroom.

_FredFredFred._

Her mind was one big mess as she hurried down the corridor, holding her stomach excitedly. Hermione was so lost in her thoughts of where she would find Fred that she didn't notice when she rushed right past the red-head. Fred immediately noticed the look of excitement and anxiousness on her face and followed behind her. "Her-my-own-knee!" he said in a sing-song voice. "Her-my-own-knee!"

She stopped suddenly, turning to face him as a brilliant smile spread across her face. "I felt it kick!" she told him proudly.

Fred couldn't help but bring some humor to the situation. He _was _Fred Weasley after all. "Are you sure it wasn't indigestion?" he joked. "Because mum one time mistook some indigestion for _labor pains_..."

She smacked him lightly on the shoulder, smiling even broader if possible. "It's kicking again!" she said as her eyes widened, looking down at her stomach. Slowly, she lifted her head back up to look at Fred. "Do you want to feel it kick?"

Fred looked at her unsurely. "That won't hurt the baby... will it?" he asked.

She laughed, taking his hand in her own. A strange tingling feeling shot through his body and he shivered. But as Hermione placed his hand under her shirt onto her stomach (which he noticed she had concealed _very _well, for there was no signs of a bump, _or_ watermelon) he ignored the feeling and shrugged it off as just excitement over the baby.

And then, suddenly... he felt it: a little tiny push on his hand. Again. He looked up at Hermione, smiling widely. "Are you pulling my leg?"

"Oh yes, because I would go through the trouble of _pretending _to feel my baby kicking just so you'd touch me," she answered sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

He took his hand back. "Well if you put it that way," said Fred, going along with her. "You weirdo..."

They shared a laugh before Hermione suddenly grew seriously. "This is... so... I can't find the words to explain it... it's..."

Oh, Fred knew what was going to happen next; Fred knew what happened when she was at a loss for words. That's when she would start crying. Only seconds later, the waterworks started. As he was used to, he wrapped his arms around her and let her sob into his shoulder.

"You know, mum had trouble controlling her emotions while she was carrying too," he said his first anecdote of this crying session. "Except, rather than cry, she would scream very loudly. And throw things, _very_ heavy things. Of course, I believe it was one of these fits that caused her to go into labor with Ron..."

It did not help to suppress her tears, and he tried to think of another anecdote that he had not already told her.

"Did I tell you about how _I _am the one who caused Ron's fear of spiders?" he asked, even though he knew she had heard it from Ron. "Well Ron was being a real pain in the arse, so I told him to knock it off or I would do something to his teddy. The next thing I knew, he had broken my toy broomstick, and I had changed teddy into a large, live spider. It was wiggling around as Ron clutched it, and I swear it took him a very long time to realize what had happened. Suddenly, he looked down and started screaming for mum. I'd rather not go into detail as to how mum punished me, so let's just say my bum has never been the same."

She quickly took a step backwards and gave him a watery smile. "Who ever knew that I would cry over silly things like this?" she asked rhetorically as she wiped her eyes with a handkerchief that Fred had automatically handed to her seconds before.

He shrugged and glanced down at her stomach. "Is he/she or it still kicking?"

She put one hand on her belly and waited a second. "No," she frowned.

"Don't worry about it," said Fred. Then added, with a wink, "I bet he/she or it is just saving their energy so they can wake you up later tonight."

Hermione, however, gave him a stern look. "Stop referring to my child as "he/she or it," because it's starting to bug me."

"Well," he replied, "I wouldn't _have _to refer to your child as "he/she or it" if you had found out which it was when the doctor offered to tell you."

She put her hands on her hips. "I want it to be a surprise, Fredrick."

"I can't very well come up with _two _plans on how to turn your child into the ultimate prankster."

"Fred—!"

"A boy and a girl are very different to train you know," he continued, as if she weren't protesting. "Boys tend to be easier, so I can make a schedule that is very bendable, and would only take a month or two. A girl, on the other hand, will be certain to become frustrated easier and whine a hell of a lot more, thus making a very strict schedule that could take years of planning."

"Fred!" Hermione repeated for the fifth time. He finally, and with a lopsided grin, stopped. "You are not training my child to be... an "ultimate prankster", as you put it. This child will be raised as _I _see fit."

He pouted, jutting out his bottom lip. "You're forgetting a certain Vow I made—"

"That Vow did not say you had to make my child into a prankster," she told him. "You won't die if my child is not a prankster like you."

Which was completely and utterly true, but the thought that he would be helping raise a child, and not turn it into a prankster disappointed Fred greatly. He had started looking forward to the baby's arrival, instead of dreading it. When something happened, he was usually just as excited as Hermione. This was one of those times that, when he saw Hermione, his heart started racing, because he recognized the look of joy that was on her face. It was a look that made him know he was about to find out about something exciting.

Hermione had started walking away, Fred noticed, and he followed. He didn't ask where they were going, because he knew they were out to find Harry. "I have a feeling he's at my dormitory," she mumbled as they turned up a corridor. They soon arrived at the Head dormitory, where Hermione gave the password. Upon entry, they found Harry sitting on the couch, anxiously waiting for Hermione. His head snapped to look at them the second he heard the portrait-hole open and was across the room and giving Hermione a stern look before Fred had even taken two steps into the room.

"What's wrong?" asked Harry worriedly as he looked her up and down.

Hermione grinned widely. "Guess," she teased.

Harry cocked an eyebrow. "I'm guessing something good by the smiles on both of your faces," he replied. Fred didn't notice, but he had also started grinning.

"I felt my baby _kicking_," she told him excitedly, taking his hand in her own and hastily placing it under her shirt and on her stomach. "Just keep your hand there, and you'll feel them too."

Not only was Harry in shock, but he actually felt it. A little, tiny push against his hand. When Blaise had first come to Harry and told him about Hermione's flight from Arithmancy class, he was worried something bad had happened. But this moment cleared everything from Harry's mind; it was a moment they all had been waiting for. This told them how real this was; that Hermione truly was going to have a child. "Brilliant," he said quietly, not able to contain his enthusiasm as a broad grin spread across his face as well.

"Isn't it wonderful?" she asked as he put his arm by his side and made sure her shirt was fully down. "I just can't wait until March, that's when the baby is due, Fred."

"Ron's birthday was in March," Harry suddenly said. "Very fitting if you ask me."

Hermione nodded and smiled at Harry. "It _is_ very fitting."

---

Now lounging in the library, Hermione could see the last rays of the sun beaming down brightly only a few tables down from her. Of course, she wasn't really reading, just enjoying the Hogwarts library. And it was an added bonus that Fred, Harry, and (oddly) Blaise had not found her yet. Strangely, it was the first place they should have known to look. But Hermione wasn't complaining. Since the baby had started kicking, they had been making sure she was _never _alone. Harry's excuse was something having to do with escaped Death Eaters (along with incoherent mumbling); Fred's excuse was that he wanted to start "prankster-fying he/she or it now"; Blaise's excuse was... well... Hermione really didn't know. But she had also told him about the baby kicking later that night, and he too seemed happy about it.

She looked once more out the window, and was about to stand to walk outside when she saw someone out of the corner of her eyes enter the library. Someone with unmistakable messy, raven-colored hair. She grinned as he approached her. "Took you long enough," she teased.

He rolled his eyes as he stopped in front of her. "I knew the second you went missing that last time that you had gone to the library," he said. "But I convinced the others that you would never go there, because it was too obvious."

"_Or _you all thought it would be too obvious," she suggested, "but you just can't admit that you didn't think something as plain as the nose on your face."

"My nose is not plain," joked Harry. He pointed to his nose. "This nose is on the face of a man who saved the world. Several times."

"How did you get in here with that huge ego?" asked Hermione playfully. "I swear it can't fit through the door."

"Haha, you're oh-so funny, Hermione," he said sarcastically with another roll of his eyes. "I can't contain my laughter."

"You have Malfoy's ego, _and _his personality! Now, where is your evil twin located at the present time?"

Harry looked up thoughtfully. "Hmmm..." he started, putting a finger to his chin. "I'd say somewhere very, very hot. I think... yes, it's Hell."

They shared a grin and laughter as they walked out of the library. "Where's Ginny?" Hermione asked after a brief lapse of silence.

Harry shrugged. "She said something about a new issue of _Witch Weekly_ that came in the post," he answered. "I doubt that it will take her long to write them another letter about false pictures of me and whoever is my "woman" this week."

"Who was it last week?" she asked curiously.

"Ginny."

"And she has a problem with that because...?"

"Because her mother reads _Witch Weekly_," he replied. "You just don't _see _the things they say about our "romantic weekend escapades" on a weekly basis. It's as if they have nothing better to do then get me killed by Mrs. Weasley!"

"So, Harry, how _are _your "romantic weekend escapades" with one Ms. Ginevra Weasley?" she mocked a Muggle news reporter, pretending to hold a microphone.

Before Harry could respond, however, the one and only Blaise Zabini seemed to pop out of nowhere. "There she is!" he said, sighing in relief. "We thought you'd been lost." He fell in step with Harry and Hermione.

"Who'd ever thought we would be walking down the corridors with a Slytherin on our own accord?" Harry asked lightheartedly as they opened a door into a small, side courtyard.

"Not me," Hermione and Blaise said in unison.

They stopped a few steps later at a stone bench, which Hermione gladly sat on. Lately, she had not been able to walk as far without the need to stop.

"It's a beautiful day," she said brightly. Her depressing day had become a joyous one only a week before, causing her to be in a happy mood more often. Fred seemed to notice this more than anyone, and would pick on her for it.

Speaking of Fred...

"Oi! Hermione!"

The trio turned around to see red-haired Fred walking towards them, his hands thrown in the air. "Where _have _you been?" he asked in mock exasperation. "You're wasting precious time that I could be training he/she or it!"

"We talked about this before, Fred," she said sternly. "First of all, my child shall not be referred to as "he/she or it." Lastly, you are not going to raise my child to be like _you_. The last thing we need is another _Fred _running around."

"First of all, we can only refer to your child as "he/she or it" because you, the mother, refused to learn what the gender of your child is. Lastly, I have already decided against the name "Fred" whether or not it's a boy, because that would be rather confusing and I would not like to share my wonderful name with anyone else," Fred said. Then he added, "Of course, I'd been fine with name he/she or it Gred, or Forge. Of course, _you_ can make suggestions, but it matters whether or not it's a good na—"

"I want my child to have a name that _means _something," she said. "I've already ruled out Ronald, because, other than being my child's fathers name, it has no deep meaning," rambled Hermione. "I was thinking more along the lines of Eudora or Callidora if it's a girl, and Theo or Corban if it happens to be a boy. I'm not picky tho—"

"Why not just go with Matthias if it's a boy. It's Greek, which seems to be your theme, and it means "gift to woman,"" offered Fred in a serious tone.

"Because I don't want my child, if it happens to be a boy, to have a huge ego just because of his name," she answered simply.

"You really thought hard about this, huh?" asked Blaise, cocking an eyebrow.

Hermione nodded fervently. "Since the day I found out I was pregnant I've been thinking of names."

"And in those six months you didn't happen to think about anything _not _with Greek origins, did you?" this was Fred, of course.

Rolling her eyes, Hermione stood. "I think we should get back to the dormitory, Blaise," she said, turning to him. He nodded and stood. "I have tons of homework I must finish before bed."

"Seriously though, Hermione," Fred called as they started walking away. ""Eudora"? "Corban"?"

"Yes, actually," she called back. "I _just _narrowed it down to those two this _very_ second."

Blaise and Hermione grinned as they headed back to the dormitory. A comfortable silence fell over them. "Before we get back, can we talk?" asked Blaise suddenly, breaking the silence.

Hermione gave him a questioning glance before nodding him to continue.

"Well, I realize you're pregnant and all, but," he said, "That's why I want to help you."

They had come to a stop in a nearly empty corridor, save for some first years who were just rushing by. Hermione grew more unsure about this conversation with every word. It sounded as if... he were proposing something to her.

"Over the past few months, since the war, you've been the only person I've been able to talk to at all," he continued. "You're the first person who accepted me here, even after I helped in the war. And I really feel that—"

"Blaise," interrupted Hermione gently. "If you are asking me out, this is the completely wrong time. I'm pregnant."

"I know, but you need someone to help you and—"

"That's what I've got Fred, Harry, and Runty for," she explained. "I just always thought you were a good friend and Harry seemed to like you, along with Fred. Honestly, Blaise, you are a really good friend, but that's all I need right now, a friend."

He sighed deeply, frowning. "I just thought that maybe you thought of me as... more," he said thoughtfully.

"If only all of us were wishful thinkers," smiled Hermione. "But we can still be friends, Blaise, and you can still help me. I'm just not ready for anything like that. Not yet."

He shrugged. "So there's no hope for us at all?" asked Blaise.

Hermione bit her bottom lip. The truth was, she hadn't really thought of Blaise as even a friend until a week earlier. So she doubted she would _ever _like him as more than that. Just like she would _never _like Harry as more than a friend. Harry was... well... _Harry._ Sure, she loved Harry, and would die for him. But he wasn't that one person she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. That person had been Ron. "No," she answered as her voice cracked.

Suddenly, she felt she had said that too harsh, and attempted to apologize, but Blaise was fuming. "What do you mean "no"?" he asked. "You don't know what is going to happen in the next few months; you can't see into the future!"

Hermione took a steady step backwards, slowly reaching into her pocket for her wand. "It's just a feeling I get, Blaise," she said unwaveringly while her mind twisted and twirled.

"It's probably just that bloody baby inside of you, _kicking _again," mocked Blaise as he rolled his eyes. And, before Hermione could pull out of own wand, Blaise had his up. "Tell me the complete truth, tell me about Fred."

Hermione cocked her eyebrow, inching for the wand in her pocket. "Fred is just my friend," she answered, catching a glimpse of something behind Blaise.

He rolled his eyes once more. "Hell he is. I've seen how he cares for you, and is by your side every sodding chance he gets."

"I thought you were different from other Slytherins," she said with a sigh. "But I guess I was wrong. You're exactly like Malfoy, and I _never _should have helped you get back into Hogwarts. You don't _deserve _to be here, even if you helped us win."

"You sure as hell got what _you _deserved: Ronald Weasley," said Blaise. "I always thought he couldn't sink any lower, than he went and got together with _you_—"

In an instant, a bright blue light hit Blaise in the back, sending him flying over Hermione, who had been preparing to move the second she had seen the mess of red hair approaching Blaise stealthily.

"Are you all right?" asked Fred as he rushed to Hermione.

She recounted the entire conversation to him, panting. Neither bothered to watch Blaise, for they knew that he was out cold. Once she had finished, Fred's eyes glinted maliciously, and he turned to look at the limp form of Blaise Zabini, who was just stirring. Before Hermione could react, Fred had kicked Blaise in the gut several times. "She's _pregnant, _you bloody idiot," he ranted. "How _dare _you attempted to ask a woman, who is _clearly _not at a point in life where boys are her main priority, to be more than friend with you? You inconsiderate, pompous, arrogant, egotistical, ignorant—"

"Mr. Weasley!" Fred stopped mid-kick to turn around and see Professor McGonagall. "What _are _you doing to him?"

He looked down at the evil worm that was Zabini; clutching his stomach, his nose somehow bleeding. "Leave," McGonagall said sharply. "Before I think of hexing _you_."

Fred ran; just turned around without a glance at Hermione and ran as fast as he could out of Hogwarts. He pushed open the door after rushing past familiar and unfamiliar faces, not caring to stop. Once he was out of Hogwarts, though, he continued running. Into Hogsmeade; up an unfamiliar road. Until, suddenly, he was lost, in the woods. But he didn't care, it didn't make him stop. The trees went past in a blur, the first snow of December falling on top of his head. He was cold, but he still didn't stop. His mind was reeling.

Why did he hit Blaise?

Sure, Blaise was being rude, like a Slytherin, but he should have just left him lying there. But he kicked him.

Something had sparked a fire in him, the conversation Hermione told him about. It had angered him like he had never felt before. Could he possibly...?

No.

No way in _Hell_.

Not even a possibility.

Fred did not like Hermione like _that_.

---

**Author's Note:** Sorry for the delay, some things came up. This was a really short chapter compared to the last one, but the next one will be sure to be 16 pages. ;)

Thanks to all my reviewers! I hope you like this chapter. Sorry for any mistakes, I didn't have time to go through it for mistakes a second time. Off to write chapter five now.

Leii.


	5. Trials & Truths

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters**

**On My Own**

**Chapter Five- Trials & Truths**

The day had started out normally. Well, as normal as a school day could possibly be while pregnant. But as the day had progressed, Hermione felt her day shift into something completely abnormal. Blaise had admitted he felt feelings that weren't in a "just friends" sort of way, and blown up once she had not returned those feelings. But the strangest moment of her day wasn't that, no. It was Fred's reaction. He seemed to have followed them, and saw Blaise lose his temper.

Fred had actually _fought _Blaise for Hermione; something told Hermione that it wasn't just because of the Unbreakable Vow. But what truly caused Fred to do what he did, she did not know. There was something in Fred's eyes that told her there was more to his actions. Exactly what that "more" was, she _didn't know_.

And he had run.

Of course, Professor McGonagall had sounded overly mad at Fred, actually _threatening _him. Which Hermione was now debating about with her.

"But, Professor, you _threatened _him," she said as she rushed to keep in pace with her. "You did not have to do that. Fred had good reason to kick Blaise, because Blaise was holding his wand to me. If it weren't for Fred, I could be injured. Or worse, my _child_ could be injured."

"Ms. Granger, there are some things that I am sad to say you may never understand about Blaise Zabini," said McGonagall, stopping to look at Hermione with her worn eyes. "Many things happened to Blaise Zabini in his seventeen years of life, things that will scar him for the rest of his life. He had an extremely horrible childhood, one that I doubt you could ever imagine. Those things, the abuse he dealt with for the first eleven years of his life, and every time he returned home, still have an affect on him. Personally, I think he is getting better. His temper is better; he's civilized when with people other than students that were or are in Slytherin. Professor Dumbledore's portrait told me that, no matter what, I was not to let Blaise be left out of Hogwarts. Until today, his therapy and daily potions seemed to be helping. But what just happened, you telling Blaise "no" in the way you did, set him off and set him back. When they revived him, he was shaking; back to where we started when we found him during the summer, after almost being beaten to death by his father. What Fred did to him reminded him so much of his past that he is in denial now. As of now, we, that being Madame Pomfrey and me, have decided the best thing would be to remove that memory from his mind."

Hermione looked at the Professor unsurely. "He... he was abused?"

She nodded her response in a grave manner. "Some things cannot be cured with magic, Ms. Granger; some things cannot ever be forgotten."

This entire time, Hermione had never known; never even guessed. "You two think that it's wise to take a memory away from him?"

The professor nodded once more. "For now, I don't think he should be reminded of what his father did, and that he could possibly be turning into him."

"But if he thinks he is turning into his father, he'll try to stop it. He won't let himself get any more like his father and—"

"Completely shut himself off from society. Ms. Granger, Blaise was already in a suicidal state, because he thought no one cared about him. Now, if he thinks no one cares about him, and that he is slowly becoming his father, the one thing he tries his hardest not to be, then he'll be in an even worse condition then before," McGonagall explained.

"But, Professor, I think taking something like this away from him is wrong," Hermione protested. "If he _knows _his actions, he is more likely to try and prevent himself from doing something like it again. And if you do decide to remove that memory, I'll be sure to give him a duplicate of my own."

The professor looked at Hermione wearily, and then sighed. "You must get your way?" she asked. Without waiting for a response, she continued. "I don't think it is in your best interests to do so, but if you insist... You are the one who is going to have to watch over him. As of now, you are his, what Muggles would call it, therapist. However, I want him unarmed whenever around you for long periods of time. This is a major setback, Ms. Granger, and we are back to square one in his recovery."

She nodded at the professor. "Can I go see him now?" she asked eagerly.

Professor McGonagall started walking once more. "You know where the Hospital Wing is," she called back resignedly.

---

_I am a total wreck_, thought Fred Weasley. After Apparating from wherever he had been to Diagon Alley, not one thought other than that of whether or not he liked Hermione could penetrate his mind. Now, he clearly decided he was going insane. Firstly, Hermione was the woman his _dead _brother had loved; the woman his _dead _brother had gotten pregnant. Second, he was only supposed to be looking after her and helping her through the pregnancy. Not falling for her. Falling for her was not part of that Unbreakable Vow.

Falling for Hermione Granger was not in any way part of the plan. Yet, Fred had fallen for her charms, her looks. Everything.

His life had been taken out of his hands and put into the hands of Fate. Who decided that one big train wreck was what Fred needed; that all he needed to have in his life was the one girl he hadn't wanted or needed. Now, she was all he could think of. Currently, he was lying in bed, staring up at the plain white ceiling. But it wasn't white to him anymore. No. Hermione's image seemed to be imprinted on that ceiling.

So he turned over, looking at the wall. But he didn't see the wall anymore. The wall, of course, was mimicking the ceiling and was only appearing as Hermione now. This was not how Fred wanted to spend his night, avoiding the wall and the ceiling because they were mocking him and his feelings for a certain bookworm. Life could not be fair in one single way for Fred right now, was it?

No. Not fair at all.

And it was just as Fred decided to close his eyes (where he was met by the same image of Hermione) that he had decided his life a total wreck. The worst kind of train wreck.

So he repeated, only this time out loud, "I am a total wreck." It was more of a mumble than anything, but he somehow felt better saying it out loud. With that, he turned onto his other side, flipped his pillow over, and drifted into his Hermione filled dreams.

---

"Blaise, wake up," said Hermione Granger, her brown curls pulled back into a loose ponytail. That was the image that Blaise Zabini woke up to. Of course, he didn't really have a problem with that. But under the circumstances...

"Go, Granger, before it's too late," he said, sitting up as quickly as he could. The stiff beds in the Hospital Wing made this an easy thing to do. "Go!"

But Hermione didn't waver in her efforts. "You, Zabini, will be listening to _me _right now," she said, pushing him back down forcefully. "I am not going anywhere. What you did, it wasn't your fault. According to Professor McGonagall, until today you had been doing very well. I think that the only thing you really need is a therapist. Along with some lessons on self-control. I don't want to lose you as a friend, Blaise. That's the _only _reason I am doing this."

In all honesty, Blaise was very disappointed that her intentions were completely pure and friendly. But that was life; it sucked.

Yet, it still seemed to go on constantly. Even though it sucked. The sad thing was that it didn't suck as much as he figured it would with Hermione only being friends with him. Truthfully, life was pretty good after that day. Besides the fact that, since Fred had not been back, he was the one who helped her.

Hermione was, he found, was very strict. But she didn't force him to stay in his room, like he was grounded. No, he was forced to _leave _the Head dormitory for two social hours every night.

Not that he minded really. Most days, he couldn't wait to get away from the nagging Hermione. Seriously, what had happened to the sweet girl he had started to fall for?

"Blaise, did you finish your homework?" she would ask. He, automatically, would answer, "Yes, ma'am." This would always invoke a speech about how calling her "ma'am" made her feel like an old woman. Of course, that was the exact reason he used that word, because he loved hearing her rant.

Hermione often seemed worried about Fred, Blaise also noticed. She would mumble something like "I wonder if he's all right," then glance out the window, as if she was hoping to see him arriving at Hogwarts.

At the present time, it seemed like he would never return because of what he did.

Or maybe, it was because of something else.

---

Most mornings, Fred would get out of bed, clean himself up, and get dressed to go meet Hermione for their daily breakfast together. But this wasn't most mornings, so he didn't bother getting out of bed. When his alarm clock rang, he threw it against the wall (which was still mocking him) and turned over, shutting his eyes tightly.

Like the wall, however, his eyelids were mocking him. Why did the world hate him so much?

Why?

He sighed, trying to rid his mind of Hermione. That was, of course, proved impossible during the past week, but he still tried.

Fred only needed to do one thing to end all thoughts of Hermione, he figured. Sighing deeply, he threw the blankets off onto the floor and stood up groggily.

Without faltering, he sat down at his desk, took out a bottle of ink, a quill, and a spare bit of parchment. He knew exactly what he needed to say, so... why did he have to lie?

---

Arriving at the Great Hall, after having concealed her stomach and gotten dressed in a hurry, Hermione sat down next to Ginny, who was across from Harry. Blaise, she noticed, sat next to the usual group at the Slytherin table.

Silently, she started eating a blueberry muffin while she listened to Ginny and Harry bickering over something or another.

She hadn't heard from Fred in over a week, and was extremely worried. Was he all right? Where was he? But, the question that was in her head more often then the rest was, _Is he thinking about _me Although, Hermione tried to rid her mind of this thought, because she knew the answer. No. Simple as that. A two-letter word answered that question; her most important question.

She was suddenly pulled from her reverie when an unfamiliar owl landed in front of her with a dull _thud_, knocking over Ginny's goblet of pumpkin juice.

"Who are you searching for?" she asked the small tawny owl. She removed the small letter tied around its leg to view the name on it. In looping, unfamiliar handwriting, her name was written. The owl pecked her affectionately and started nibbling at her muffin, which she had set down to read her letter. It read,

_Dear Hermione, _

_I'm sorry that I haven't been around in a while, but things have suddenly come up at the store. I would love to be there, helping you, but am unable to at the present time. However, if anything happens, anything at all that could affect both of us, please inform me. I'm only an owl away._

_Signed, _

_Fred Weasley_

Short and to the point, that's what it was. And so... unlike Fred. Of course, Hermione had never received any post from Fred at all, but she imagined that it would be much like hearing him in person: funny, witty, randomly off topic. This letter was anything but Fred. It was, sadly, similar to the letters Hermione remembered receiving from her parents. She shuddered at the thought of Fred resembling her parents in any way. _Fred would not ever be a strict parent_, she thought to herself. Suddenly, Hermione read "_if anything happens, anything at all that could affect both of us, please inform me" _in a whole other way.

Apparently, he wasn't planning on returning for quite some time. Just that thought, that Fred wouldn't be around as often, depressed Hermione greatly. In fact, she was so miserable because of this that not even the thought of Christmas being only one week away could cheer her up. Well, she didn't actually remember Christmas until only days before...

"I didn't get anyone but Fred anything!" she informed Blaise, panicking. "There's no time to shop for you—"

"No need to shop for me," said Blaise.

She ignored his comment and continued her rant. "Harry, Ginny, and my parents."

"Just get them some sugar free chewing gum," he suggested, not even bothering to look up from the book he was reading. They, of course, were in the Heads dormitory. The common room that they shared, to be exact.

"Your attempts at humor are not amusing," said Hermione absentmindedly as she made the effort to write a list of what exactly to get those people she had just listed. She really _had_ already bought Fred's; she had bought his over a month earlier. It was something she knew, for sure, that no one else would get him. After all, it was a Muggle thing really.

A Muggle comic book. Obviously, because of Ron, Hermione had seen the sad excuses of comic books that Wizards made, in which the main character was either a very unintelligent Muggle, or a Wizard who did everything he could possibly do to outsmart and outwit Muggles. It had been bought from a Muggle comic book store when she had visited her parents and a Muggle doctor, when she had brought Harry with her to the mall.

Hermione was certain that he would not fully enjoy reading about superheroes, but had picked out ones that she knew, from personal experience with a father who had collected comic books as a child, that were amusing. Even to bookworm Hermione.

The box with the comics in it was already wrapped, a bright red bow neatly adorning the top. Just waiting to be sent off to Fred so he could open it on Christmas morning.

Suddenly... no one else's present really seemed to matter to Hermione. She didn't care that she hadn't bought Harry a present, or Ginny. Just the fact that she had bought Fredrick Weasley a Christmas present made her feel content.

She sighed because of this. Lately, these types of emotions had overcome her when it came to Fred. To explain this, Hermione had come up with one excuse. But it was just so... unlikely. She, Hermione Granger, book and rule lover, could not possibly... _like _Fredrick Weasley, prankster and rule-breaker extraordinaire, in _that _way. Being who the stubborn young woman she was, she denied what she thought she was feeling for the one and only Fred.

And, oh, how good she was at denying it. She had actually, truly, convinced herself.

For a few moments.

Reason being that, not only was he her complete opposite, he was Ron's _brother_. The same Ron, she reminded herself during these times of forcing her denial, which she had loved; the same Ron that she had conceived a child with. The child which she was still carrying.

It was annoying, that's what it was.

Earlier on, when she had accepted Ron's death, she had also accepted the fact that, no matter what she believed, no matter what she tried to think, Ron wasn't the one for her. While he had been sweet, and she definitely had loved him. He just... _wasn't_. Her instincts told her that, for a fact, the person that was "the one" was still out there, somewhere. And he was someone that she was meant to grow old with.

But it couldn't possibly be his _brother._

Ron's love had been rushed. Right after Professor Dumbledore's death, things had happened so quickly. One day they were best friends, two of a trio. The next, they were boyfriend and girlfriend, living as if there were no tomorrow.

Sadly, though, his destiny led to what seemed to be a premature death. Hermione, however, knew better. She knew that, if he had been meant to live, it would have happened that way. He wouldn't have died. His death was just what was to happen, to set the course for the future. It was Fate, once again messing with lives. Only this time, it was Hermione's life it had been controlling really. Once again, her instincts told her that Fate did not have Ron and her, together, in mind. And that was the only way out.

But even with these thoughts, her mind debating with itself, she still realized that it was, in fact, _Fred _that she was now craving. A relationship that would not readily be approved of, and could never possibly happen. Fred certainly did not like her in _that_ way; she knew it. If he did, which he didn't, wouldn't he have been there, protecting her from everything? If Fred Weasley liked Hermione in _that _way, than why was he completely avoiding her at the moment?

Obviously, when it came to guys, Hermione really didn't know that much.

---

Hermione, Harry, Ginny, and Blaise (whom Hermione had been sure to invite the second she heard he was planning on staying at Hogwarts, along, for Christmas) arrived at the Burrow the day before Christmas Eve. They entered the house quickly, as the wind was blowing the falling snow all around. The four gathered around the fireplace to warm up momentarily. Suddenly, Hermione was swept into a bone-crushing hug by none other than Molly Weasley. She felt the elder woman's head burrowing into her shoulder as sobs wracked her body. Molly's muffled speaking was incoherent, though Hermione tried her best to understand what she was saying.

Mrs. Weasley seemed to sense this and released her from the embrace. "I n-never should have b-blamed you," she said sincerely, still crying; sniffling occasionally. "I sh-should be happy that I am g-going to be a grandmother. I overreacted and I-I'm really sorry, Hermione, d-dear."

Hermione smiled and nodded. She had been preparing, as Ginny had told her to, for this moment of apology. Frankly, she had prepared what she was to say after this. But, as luck would have it, she couldn't remember what she had practiced on the train. It was too simple, what she had planned on saying. As she tried to think of something else to say, however, nothing would come to her mind. Nothing at all. Well, there was one thing. "It's all right, Mrs. Weas—I mean, _Molly_."

This made the older woman smile broader than she had in, probably, months. The wrinkles became more apparent when she smiled, wrinkles that Hermione had never noticed before. Most likely, she thought, because Molly had just acquired them, with her recent bouts of worrying. "Percy said he will be arriving shortly," she told them all cheerfully. "Charlie will be her later tonight; Bill and Fleur are in town for the time being; the twins said they won't be able to make it until tomorrow afternoon. Oh, I almost forgot about the Lovegoods, who, when I invited them, were delighted to say that they would be joining us tomorrow night for dinner."

Hermione's heart lightened when she found out she would be able to see Fred in the not too distant future. She also reminded herself that, according to Ginny, Fleur was also pregnant, if only three months so far. Still, she would love to discuss things with Fleur. Every since the wedding that past summer, which had been hastily done, only a week after their return from Hogwarts, Hermione had felt closer to Fleur. She couldn't explain exactly why, but Fleur no longer was an annoyance. Maybe, she pondered, it was because she finally had Ron, who at that point, would no longer stare at Fleur, or do silly things around her.

Molly suddenly glanced around at all of them, her eyes landed on Blaise in surprise. Everyone, especially Blaise, was shocked when Mrs. Weasley embraced him as well. "I hope you enjoy your stay here, at the Burrow, and that this isn't the last one, Blaise Zabini."

He smiled once she released him. "Thank you, Mrs. Weasley," he said graciously, nodding his head in thanks.

Only a few hours later, the house was filled with the smell of another wonderful meal, courtesy of Molly Weasley. Once everything, ranging from chicken to cornbread, was on the table, including the dishes and silverware, they sat down in their normal seats. Blaise took the only empty seat. This, of course, earned him several awkward glances. He didn't know it, but he was sitting in Ron's old seat.

When Hermione noticed this, a pang of emotion came over her. Although, it was not just sadness, it was a feeling of content and happiness. Blaise smiled at Hermione, because she had been staring at him blankly for a few moments. And, it seemed as if, even with Ron gone, they were complete.

---

It was the day before Christmas now, and the snow had started early in the morning. By afternoon, Harry had convinced Hermione to come outside with him, Ginny, and Blaise, if only to sit on a bench in the garden. "It will be good for you, to get outside," he had told her. Obviously, her protests meant nothing to the one and only Boy-Who-Lived-Again.

So, sighing in an overdramatic fashion, she donned a thick pair of boots, one hat, a scarf, a pair of gloves, and a winter jacket. Oh, and not to mention the heating charm she placed on the jacket. Just in case.

After that, one would think that she wouldn't find it cold out, but she felt as if her face was going to fall off. When she voiced this, Harry only laughed. "You're wearing a scarf, covering your face," he said, having only put on a jacket and a thin pair of mittens himself. "You cannot possibly be freezing."

"For your information, Harry, I _am _cold," she said, sniffling. The cold air tended to make her nose run. "I want to go back inside, where it's warm."

"With that many layers," a familiar voice came from down the path, "I'd say that you already _are _inside."

They all turned to see two figures, both of equal height, with the unconcealed red hair showing through the heavily falling snow flakes. They were, of course, identical twins. Fredrick and George Weasley. George had been the one talking, Hermione immediately knew. The duo stopped in front of the sitting Hermione. Fred, standing on the left, only smiled weakly at Hermione. While George, without more ado, launched into a more or less one-sided conversation with Hermione. He must not have noticed that she wasn't making eye contact with him, but his twin, because she did this during for the entirety of their conversation.

It, their conversation, was the usually, run of the mill conversation that Hermione was used to having with people by now. _How are you doing? _They would ask. She would answer, _Fine_. They would then go onto ask about the pregnancy, usually leading to a name discussion and what dates were ideal for the child to be born on.

George, however, came up with one question Hermione had not heard before. "The Muggle doctor that you went to," he said, "She said that there was only one, right? No chance for twins? Twins that you could possibly name Gred and Forge?" The last part, of course, was only a joke, as he proved when he winked after finishing.

"Only one," she answered, still blatantly looking at Fred, who seemed to be more interested in the snow flakes falling on his dark gloves that he didn't even laugh at George's joke.

After a while, and after progressing into a heated debate with George as to why the name "Corban" was better than the ones he had come up with, Molly came outside, announcing that it was time for dinner.

They all entered to see that the dining room had several more chairs, due to the arrival of the twins, Percy, Charlie, and Bill and Fleur. The food had been placed in the middle of the already plate-and-silverware-crowed table, and everyone was sure to sit in the seats they had been. Once again, Blaise sat in Ron's old seat.

Mr. Weasley, who had been lounging in the living room, reading for the entire day, stood once everyone had sat down. "This past year," he started, "We lost one member of our family in the final battle. But, we gained another. Ron's sacrifice not only saved Hermione, who was already part of the family, but the child she is carrying. Words cannot express how much I would like my son back, but I think I speak for the entire family when I say that I am grateful that Hermione and her child are here. All because of the sacrifice Ron made."

There was a murmur of agreement as Mr. Weasley sat down and they began to eat.

It was clear to Hermione that she was not the only one who had accepted the loss of Ron.

Dinner lasted a little over an hour. The conversation was one that would be forgotten only days later, because nothing said was that important. They all helped clear the plates from the table, even Hermione. Harry looked at Hermione, who had watched Fred for a little over half of dinner, and nudged her. "If you don't talk to him now," he said out of the corner of his mouth as they put their plates in the sink, "I will."

So, Hermione pulled Fred outside as everyone else around them bustled into the living room to sing Christmas carols. The snow was coming down in flurries, but she welcomed the cold air. It had been rather hot inside with all those people. "What the hell are you trying to pull, Fred?" she asked once she knew they were out of earshot from anyone that might be trying to hear them inside the house, namely Harry James Potter and Blaise Zabini (who had suddenly become masters of espionage over the day and a half they had been at the Burrow). Her eyes, she knew, we giving him a glare he wouldn't dare forget or brush off.

Fred's knitted his brow so tightly that it looked like there was only one eyebrow. "What exactly are you talking about?" he asked unsurely.

"You just leaving me, alone," she exclaimed. "I was worried about you, Fredrick Weasley. I thought that you suddenly didn't care about your own life!"

Surprisingly, he gave her the lopsided grin he seemed to have acquired that past September. "Hermione?" he said.

"What?" she hissed impatiently.

And, still grinning, he said, "Shut up." And before either of them knew what was happening, he was cupping her face in his hands. Just like that, he kissed her. Like he had dreamt about for over two weeks, he kissed her. Slowly, just hoping it could last forever. Her lips were better than he had imagined them being. No wonder his brother had fallen in love with her.

That's when he broke the kiss and took several steps backward.

Hermione looked at him apprehensively. She opened her mouth and closed it several times before she actually spoke. "Well," said Hermione finally, her voice more high-pitched than it had ever been. "Why'd you stop?"

One question changed the world for Fred. "You're pregnant," he answered simply, pointing at her stomach, which had been expertly concealed.

She cocked and eyebrow and folded her arms across her chest. "Thank you Captain Obvious!"

"I mean, you're pregnant with my _brother's _baby," he righted himself. "The same brother that _died_ for you!"

She rolled her eyes, nostrils flaring. "Do you really find it necessary to remind me of that?" she asked incredulously. It was one thing to remind her she was pregnant, but a whole other story to remind her that his brother had sacrificed himself for her and their child.

"I don't know what has been going on lately, Hermione," said Fred, "But it's ruining my life."

"Are you saying that _I'm _ruining your life?"

"I'm supposed to be watching out for you," he said, his voice growing steadily louder. Neither expected what he said next. "Not falling in love with you."

The air suddenly grew silent as both grew aware of what he said.

"Wh-what?" Hermione finally managed to stutter out after a very long and awkward silence.

"Yes, Hermione," he said, "I'm falling for you. No matter how wrong it may seem to either of us, it's happening. I can't stop bloody thinking about you. You, Hermione sodding Granger, are on my mind twenty-four seven. And it's goddamn wrong for me to feel this way when you're... _pregnant_. I'm just supposed to watch out for you and he/she or it, not_ fall _for you."

All she, Hermione, was able to do was stand that, gaping wordlessly at him. What was she supposed to say to that? "I love you too"?

It was his turn to stare and wait now. And, even though it was only about a thirty second wait, it seemed like hours. Each second ticked by so slowly, and he soon found himself breathing very rapidly, and, even though it was several degrees below zero, he felt as if it were the middle of July.

Finally, Hermione spoke. But what she said, the words that came out of her mouth, were so hard for her to say. The feelings she wanted to admit, she couldn't. He was _Fred Weasley, _not the man she was meant to spend the rest of her life with. Not _any _part of her life with.

Or so she thought when she said, "Goodbye, Fred," and walked back to the house without a second glance.

* * *

**Author's Note: **So, I made my schedule this week, and didn't remake it completely like last week. AND this chapter is over 5000 words long, because last week's was so short. So I'm halfway there now, and this is the turning point really. The story was first half dark, last half light.

This chapter, like the whole story, is dedicated to Monica. Who has, most recently, helped me through the most difficult transition of my life. I love you my "evil" twin. :)

I hope you all liked the chapter, and thank you for all the reviews. Expect chapter six to be ON TIME and EXTREMELY long. Well... that could change, depending on when I start.

Leii.


	6. Deliberation & Desire

**Dedication:** This story, in its entirety, is dedicated to Monica. Without her, who knows where I would be.

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything related to it. I own nothing but the room I am sitting in, and the computer I am using. Oh, and the plot, I guess. **

**Author's Note:** I would just like to mention that Hermione may seem very hot-tempered this chapter. One reason: she's pregnant, and a few weeks overdue I might like to add. Her hormones are raging and her judgment is a little off because of it.

**On My Own**

**Chapter Six- Deliberation & Desire **

The rest of Christmas break passed without much incident. While Hermione still was recovering from, and going over in her head, what had happened with Fred on Christmas Eve, not much else happened. She debated with Fleur about motherhood, Fleur seemed less excited than Hermione had expected, and continued the therapy sessions with Blaise (the sessions involved viewing his memories of his parents, namely his father, and just talking. He had not once, since he had asked her out, had an episode).

But all her thoughts, no matter what she was doing, remained on Fred. She had walked away from him and everything he was offering her, and it was slowly turning into one of her biggest regrets. Because, in all truthfulness, the time period in which she could deny her feelings was coming to an abrupt end. She just _couldn't_ anymore. The feelings were so familiar, similar to what she had felt for Ron while he was alive. But, in a way, they were... _different_.

It was extremely unexplainable and so hard to comprehend. Less than a year ago, Hermione would have told anyone that would listen that Ron was the one for her, but now... now it was starting to dawn on Hermione that maybe _Fred _had always been the one for her. Only, she had never noticed; never given him a second glance. Because it had seemed, at the time, that Fate wanted Hermione and Ron together, that they were meant to be; that was the reason they had met on the train that day.

What if all she thought was wrong? What if, unquestionably, she had only met Ron that day because it was to open her path to Fred? Fate, it seemed, had brought Ron and Hermione together, only so that Unbreakable Vow would be made; only so Fred would fall for Hermione; only so they would end up together. Was that it? Had she found the truth finally?

So she may have been carrying the child of Ron, but did that mean he was the one for her, just because she was having his child?

No, it did not. She _could_ move on; find the right person for herself. Maybe, just maybe, it would turn out to be Fred. And she hoped it would be Fred. Truly, frantically hoped.

She just hoped that he still felt the same way.

---

Apparently, he did not. Hermione received no contact from him at all; not even _one_ damn letter. She figured he had probably found many other girls to fill her spot, and would, at this thought, become rather jealous and snappy. Not to mention the mood swings she was _already_ experiencing due to the pregnancy.

Jokingly, Harry would say "Red alert!" whenever he sensed a mood swing coming. Hermione wouldn't mind this as much if he didn't do it in the middle of the corridors and in the Great Hall.

It was now nearing the middle of February. The days lasted longer, and the nights were shorter. The weather seemed unusually warm to Hermione, but she didn't mind. The winter this year had depressed her so much. And she was glad that everything was going by so quickly; she was already in her eight month of pregnancy. Meaning, of course, that there was only one more month left.

But even the thought that she would soon be holding her child in her arms couldn't make her forget about Fred. She had yet to have contact with him, let alone reconcile with him, and was overly worried. She missed the help he gave her, and the laughter they had shared. She even missed him calling her child "he/she or it."

"Are you feeling all right, Hermione?" asked Harry, bringing her out of her reverie. This question made Hermione think. _Was _she feeling all right?

Honestly, she wasn't. Her stomach, which was concealed so she could wear her school uniform still, was twisting and turning. Most of the time, when she had her stomach concealed, she wouldn't even remember that she was even pregnant. But this last month had her mind reeling with everything having to do with the baby and Fred.

"Hermione?" Harry repeated worriedly, waving his hand in front of her face, which was contorted as if she were in some sort of pain. Since Christmas Eve, something had changed about Hermione. Whether or not it was a good or bad change, he hadn't decided yet.

Finally, Hermione looked at Harry, into his blazing green eyes. "I think I just need to lie down," she said, standing up and leaving the Gryffindor common room before he could react. He threw down the book he had been reading onto the ground, receiving several glares from the students whose studying he was disrupting, and followed Hermione tracks as quickly as he possibly could. He did not have to go far, however, because she had not even made it half way to her dormitory before needing to rest. She was leaning against a wall not two corridors away from Gryffindor tower.

"What's wrong, Hermione?" he asked once he was standing in front of her, furrowing his brow.

She suddenly burst into tears. "I made a terrible mistake," she replied, throwing her arms around his shoulders.

"Having this baby is not a mistake, Hermione," insisted Harry, patting her back soothingly. "This is anything _but _a mista—"

"Not the baby, Harry," she said. "_Fred_."

---

It was a full month later and there had still been no word from Fred. Professor McGonagall had insisted Hermione could take as long as she needed off from classes. The professor had also expanded Hermione's bedroom, so that there was now a big enough space to put all the things belonging to he/she or it, which had already been built by Fred, Blaise, and Harry months earlier.

She glanced around her newly enlarged room and sighed from her bed. Wearing some of the only maternity clothing she had bothered to buy, she was no longer concealing her stomach. The due date was less one week away, and she had the next month off, so there was no need to conceal her stomach. Later on, Harry would be arriving with her homework assignments, and she would be able to do more than lounge and nap. Her mind would be taken off of the baby. And, hopefully, off Fred.

Yes, she was _still _thinking about Fred, even with all that had happened. Even with the baby almost there. He was that nagging thought at the back of her mind. Hermione had only done a few things in life that she truly regretted doing; walking away from Fred that night was the biggest one. Not that she was trying to think of him, it was just that everything somehow _reminded _her of Fred.

Mrs. Weasley had sent a package a few days earlier filled with the foods Hermione loved, baby clothes, stuffed animals and blankets. Maureen, her midwife, had been making visits to Hermione daily to check her vitals and to make sure the baby was doing all right. "Any day now," she would say with a smile before leaving.

Hermione's due date came and past, but Maureen was not worried. "It was only a prediction as to when the baby would be born," she said on the third late day. "Don't worry," she smiled her bright white smile once more, "It will happen when the time is right."

Oh yes, because that would not end up being almost a month later than expected.

It was a full week late now, and Hermione was becoming very aggravated. "I don't _want _to be pregnant anymore," she whined one day to Harry, just as he was handed her the paper listing her homework. "I just want to... _not _be pregnant!"

At this, he would just roll his eyes. She had been seldom saying the same thing since the end of Christmas Break, but now it seemed to him that it was the only thing she said to him anymore. "Maureen said—"

"I do not give a rat's ass about what Maureen said," she wailed. "I just _don't want to be pregnant_!"

Accustomed to this reaction of hers, he rolled his eyes once more. Then he grinned. "Fred was right," he said, "You look like the giant squid..."

She glared at him. "Comedy was never your forte, Harry."

"Well, I think I've been too busy saving the world to become a top-notch comedian," he replied, sitting at the foot of her bed now.

Suddenly, her door was thrown open and in rushed a panting Blaise. "They found him," he said, breathless. "They found Malfoy."

Harry jumped to his feet. "Where?" he asked firmly.

Blaise jerked his head backwards. "They're bringing him here," he answered. "McGonagall is going to talk to him."

After glancing at Hermione, who had, for a fleeting moment, thought they were talking about Ron, walked forward. "Well let's go kick ferret-boy's arse."

Blaise held out his arm to stop Harry. "He's not here to be questioned," Blaise informed him. "He's here to _learn_."

They both gaped at the Slytherin in silence. Hermione was the first to break the silence. "What the bloody hell do you mean by "_learn_"?" she exclaimed.

"He's been getting tutored at home while recovering from a severe injury," Blaise continued. "He is going to be tutored by Professor McGonagall and a few other teachers to prepare for the N.E.W.T.s, and attending some classes. It's only temporary. I only rushed up here because he said something to me."

"What?" Harry and Hermione asked in unison.

"He wants revenge for his father," he answered. "And he wants it now. We need to get Hermione out of here, just for a little while."

"How does he know who killed his father?" asked Hermione. It had not been one of her proudest moments in life, but killing Lucius Malfoy had helped them win in the end. "Draco sodding Malfoy wasn't even _at _that battle."

"Which is why they are allowing him back," said Blaise. "There is no proof linking him to any Death Eater activity, besides the Dark Mark on his arm. According to them, and him, he never killed or harmed anyone."

Hermione stood up before anyone could stop her. "Bring me to him right now, I'm going to give him a piece of my mind," she said, stowing her wand, which had been lying on her bedside table, in her pocket.

Harry rushed to her side. "I think that maybe you should be lying down," he suggested. "Not kicking Malfoy's ass. I mean, you _are_ pregnant..."

"Why thank you, Harry. If it weren't for you, I probably wouldn't have realized that this enormous bulge is because I'm _pregnant,_" she said sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "That does not mean I can't go and _talk _some sense into Malfoy, does it? I may not be able to beat him up _physically, _but I definitely can _emotionally._ The bloody bastard doesn't _deserve _to take the N.E.W.T.s, and I think it is my responsibility to force that into his blonde skull."

Harry grabbed her wrist gently. "I don't think that it is very wise to go and cause yourself stress, Hermione," he warned. "I advise you to go back to bed and rest."

Hermione pulled her hand away from him and folded her arms across her chest, lips pursing. "Just because I am pregnant, Potter," she snarled, "Does not mean that I cannot go and _kill _someone!"

Harry and Blaise exchanged glances and tried to hold in their laughter. "Listen to yourself," said Blaise.

An annoyed groan emitted from Hermione throat. "I just want to wring that stupid attention whore's _neck_!" she said, stomping her foot.

Not wanting Hermione to upset herself further, and really not able to handle her anymore, Harry spoke up, "You're acting like a _five-year old chi_--"

"You're acting like a prat!"

"You're pregnant!"

"We already cleared that one up, thanks!"

"You need to lie down before you hurt the baby!"

"You need to shut your mouth when speaking to me!"

Well, that _definitely_ shut him up. "What?" he asked. "That made no sense whatsoever. I _really _think it would be wise to lie down now, Hermione, because you're not making any sense."

She stomped her foot. "I will _not _sit here and let Draco sodding Malfoy attend Hogwarts," she persisted. "I refuse to allow him here while I am going to be keeping a _child _here."

Then, before either Blaise or Harry could react, Hermione had stunned them and rushed out of the room. Riding on the impulse to injure Malfoy, she did not care that her ankles felt as if they were on fire; she didn't care that the stitch in her side seemed to be getting worse with each burning step; she didn't care that she had not concealed her stomach that morning and was receiving strange looks from the student she passed; she didn't even care to take a break until she was outside the Gargoyle that led to the Headmistress' office. She said the password, which she knew because she was Head Girl, and went up the stairs. When she burst through the door, she was panting heavily, and sank into the nearest chair, all the while Professor McGonagall and Draco Malfoy were giving her an incredulous look.

"What are you doing, Ms. Granger?" asked the professor when she was finally able to talk.

When Hermione finally caught her breath, she held her wand, which had been out since she left her dormitory, in Malfoy's direction. "I find that letting Malfoy come here is a bad decision on your part, Professor McGonagall."

"Whether or not it is a bad decision, it was not mine to make," she replied, looking at Hermione over the rims of her spectacles. "I am obliging with what the Ministry has asked of me, which is to tutor and allow Draco here to attend class so he can take his N.E.W.T.s at the end of this school year."

Hermione stood up, still not caring that her lungs hurt badly. "My child is in danger because _he _will surely try to harm me," debated Hermione, her wand still aimed at Malfoy, as if he were going to pounce on her.

Really, Malfoy was not planning on doing anything. At the moment, at least. The book propped on his lap was still open as he stared at the seemingly mad young woman. The last time he had seen her had been the night he ran from Hogwarts with Snape. Things, her stomach specifically, had changed a great deal. When he at last was able to speak, because the shock of a wand being brandished at him by a pregnant woman was great, he tried to be like the Malfoy he knew she was used to. "Now now, Granger," he said snidely. "You wouldn't want to hurt your... _child_, would you? Especially over me."

Her eyes flashed dangerously and she slowly turned her head in his direction. "If I did anything to you, Malfoy," she said in a low voice, "I would not regret it, so don't provoke me."

Hermione's threat did not persuade him to stop, however. "Weasley's been dead for along time, has he not?" he counted back the months on his fingers. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say that it's been almost nine months since he made that foolish move of jumping in front of a cur—"

He was, of course, interrupted when Hermione's self-control ran out and she hit him with the first spell that came to mind. "_Incendio_," she shouted, and immediately set his blonde hair on fire.

The Headmistress, to Malfoy's gratification _and_ mortification, without delay doused him with water from her own wand. The end product: a Draco Malfoy with a considerably lesser amount of (singed) hair that was dripping water not only all over him and the carpet on the floor below him, but on the rare Potions book he had been studying from.

"Ms. Granger, I realize that the hormones streaming through your body are going to make you do some irrational things, but this is _absurd_," exclaimed McGonagall. "You _cannot _go around lighting my student's _hair _on fire!"

"I don't consider Malfoy one of your students," said Hermione. "I consider him what is left of an enemy."

"The only enemy _here _is a crazed, pregnant woman," snapped Malfoy, brushing his soaking wet hair back and staring at her pointedly. "Just because your hair lacks... well, everything that mine has, doesn't mean you need to have a vendetta against it."

"Go shove your big, blonde, egotistical head up your—"

"Ms. Granger, I'm asking you to leave and go back to your dormitory," said McGonagall calmly. "I don't think you need this stress."

"Yes, go back to your dormitory and dream about what life would be like if your precious Weaselbe were still here," said Malfoy scathingly. "Although, if you ask me, I think your kid will have a _much_ better life without him."

"Shove off, Mal—" Hermione stopped and clutched her stomach.

---

The glowing green light emanating from the fireplace barely lit the seemingly deserted room. Yet, the person inside the fire knew better. George Weasley knew that his brother was in the room, only just out of site somewhere. This was his routine, checking in on his twin brother, so he knew that Fred was there. Fred had barely left his room for days, only to occasionally check the store, and had locked and sealed his door to a great extent. So George, being the kind twin brother that he was, would use his Floo powder to talk to his brother that was only one room away (It would have been easier, he would later realize, to just blast open the door).

"Fred," he called out. "I know you're there."

"Go away," came Fred's muffled reply in the darkness. He was, of course, lying in bed like a miserable old man.

"This is important, Fred," persisted George. "This is very important."

"If you're running low on Puking Pasties, there are more in the—"

"This is not about the store," he interrupted his twin. "It's about Hermione."

Fred sprang up and came into view by the light of the fireplace. "What happened?" he asked worriedly.

"She's going into labor."

---

The journey to Hogwarts took only a matter of minutes. Fred had his coat on and was heading out the door before George had even taken his head out of his fireplace. Rushing up the path onto the school grounds, and passing through the fence with no problem, all of Fred's thoughts were focused on the same thing they had been focused on since Christmas Eve.

Yes, Hermione Granger _still_ had his heart, even though she had blatantly rejected him. Even though he knew things would never work out with them. She was still the person that caused his heart to do flips. Fred knew that his life would never be the same; that Hermione Granger would always hold the key to his heart.

But even though she had obviously snubbed him, he was still running to her. Months earlier, it would have been because of fear for his own life, but now... now it was for a non-selfish reason. Now it was for Hermione. Simple as that. _For Hermione_.

Apparently, he had been informed of her labor later, because, by the time he got there, it was too late to help her through the labor. As he burst into the Common Room, he could hear the cries of a baby in the other room. He looked around the room: Blaise was sitting on the couch, seemingly in a trance.

"Hello?" said Fred.

Blaise head snapped up and a grin spread across his face. "It's a boy," he said cheerfully.

Fred looked back at the closed door, than back at Blaise. His blood, on a different occasion, would be boiling, because of what had happened last time they met. But it was too joyful of a moment to go beating anyone up. Yet. "Can I do in there?" he asked unsurely, gesturing towards the door.

Blaise nodded, still looking happy.

Smiling, Fred turned to the door and opened it. All heads, which had been focused on the infant being held by a beaming, and very red, sweaty, Hermione, snapped to look at Fred at he stepped inside the bedroom.

"Please tell me you did not name that adorable child "Corban," Hermione," said Fred as he closed the door.

She rolled her eyes. "Of course not," she answered. "I named him "Narcissus," after you."

His jaw dropped. "Please tell me you are only joking."

She smiled broadly. "If you _must _know," she said, looking down at the baby boy in her arms, "I named him Matthias Corban."

He looked around the room, beaming at the fact that she had _actually _chosen his suggestion. It, Hermione's bedroom, was full of everyone that loved Hermione; Harry, Ginny, Arthur, Molly, and even Professor McGonagall. And Fred was there, too. They were one big family, with or without Ron. But he was there too then, in a way.

Hermione looked at him, and their eyes met. She inclined her head in her direction, and he knew what she meant. Her smile told him all he needed to know. So, after a few steady steps, he was sitting beside her on the bed, staring at the small, seven pound infant she held in her arms. The evident tuft of red hair he had seen the moment he stepped through the door, and was proud to say it matched his own. Of course, he knew that it would, later on, become curly like Hermione's.

"Happy Birthday," she said suddenly.

Fred looked up at her and cocked an eyebrow. "Who are you talking to?"

"You, of course," answered Hermione. "It is April first; your birthday. And Matthias' now. I named him Matthias for you; that is your birthday present from me."

He restrained himself from saying that he would rather _her _be his birthday present when he spoke. "Well, I think I should start the training as soon as possible," said Fred in a serious tone. "It is a two year training course I've entitled "Operation Pranksterfy He/She or It," or "O-PHSI" for short."

"Don't you think you should change that to "Operation Pranksterfy Matthias Corban Granger"?" asked Harry.

"Hmm," he said thoughtfully. ""O-PMCG" doesn't sound _right_. "O-PHSI" sounds better to me. What do you say, Hermione?"

"I say that I'm not letting you anywhere _near _Matthias if you are going to turn him into your protégé," she said.

He pouted. "You take _all _the fun out of life, Hermione."

She smiled at him and looked back down at Matthias. "Do you want to hold him?" she asked suddenly.

Before Fred could protest, he was holding the small, bundled up baby. The door opened and Hermione's midwife, Maureen, walked in. "The picture perfect family," she remarked upon seeing the two and the baby together. They both couldn't help but blush slightly.

---

**Author's Note:** I would just like to thank all of my wonderful reviewers, and especially Monica. I would like to mention that there might actually be _less _than 10 chapters. I'm not saying this for sure though, but the next chapter could possibly be the last, if I can get at least 7000 words written before the due date. So the schedule will stay, just in case the next chapter is not the last one.

I hope you all liked this chapter. Go on and leave me your thoughts, I love constructive criticism. Without it, how would I ever become a better writer?

Love,

Leii.


	7. Slow & Steady

**Author's Note: ** We have come to the end, my friends. Thanks for all your reviews. I know this chapter may start out badly, but I promise it gets better. I'd like to note that I listened to **The Spill Canvas** while writing this. If any of you know who that is, they are a pretty much acoustic band that writes mostly songs about love (eh, a few about breaking up. And YES, I listened to those also. You'll understand while reading). Oh, and "Konstantine" by **Something Corporate **was a big inspiration for this chapter, too.

I hope you think reading this for the past few months was worth it, and I hope the ending is all you expected, maybe even more.

Once again, I thank all my readers and reviewers.

**Dedication:** Like the past six chapters, this is dedicated to Monica, my evil twin. For a year and four months she has put up with me. Trust me that can not very easy. We've had our fights (some major, some minor), we've had our hyper moments, we've even had intelligent conversations (ME having an intelligent conversation? Sounds impossible, I know.). Through it all, however, she has stuck by me, and I have stuck by her. She has helped me become a better writer, and a better (and more responsible) person. Without her, this story would probably never ended up making me proud. Without her, I'd probably have quit writing. I know what Monica is thinking now, too, while reading this. She's thinking that I am flattering her too much. The truth is, however, that this is NOT just flattery, it is the TRUTH. And don't you forget it. :)

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters.**

**On My Own**

**Chapter Seven- Slow & Steady**

This is the part in the story that most would think to be the "happily ever after."

Not in this case.

Fred and Hermione did not ride off into the sunset with Matthias. _Yet_. Raising a child, Hermione learned, was _very_ difficult. Even though Fred was there. She stayed with her child for a few weeks, than returned back to classes while Fred watched Matthias during the days. But the problem was she barely was able to get any sleep.

"Just let me take him for a few days," suggested Fred one day in a hush tone. "I promise that is not enough time for me to train him."

Hermione smiled weakly, placing a sleeping Matthias in his crib. "I'm doing fine, Fred," she said, her own voice hushed. "This is what is to be expected. I mean, he is only a baby."

"But the most sleep you get around here is two hours straight," he continued quietly. "Just let me take him for a few days so you can sleep. I'm an insomniac anyway, so I don't care if he keeps me up. You, however, are trying to study for your N.E.W.T.s, and you simply cannot with him crying constantly."

Hermione sighed. "As I said before, I am fine."

"Of course you are not fine," he insisted. "You look horrible!"

"Thank you for noticing," she said sarcastically. Quite frankly, she was not looking her best. There were bags under her eyes from the lack of sleep, her hair was bushier than ever, and the only clothing, other than her uniform, that was clean was whatever she borrowed from anyone that would lend her clothing. At the moment, a shirt of Fred's (several sizes too big), a pair of pants from Ginny (a tad too small), socks from Harry (you can only imagine), and one of Ron's old Weasley's sweaters (Maroon. Need I say more?).

"Fine, Hermione, but if you want to ruin all that you've worked for, who am_ I_ to stop you?"

Hook, line, and sinker.

"Well, I guess I _could _do with a little more sleep, and it won't hurt him to be around you for only a few days," she contemplated, leading Fred out of her bedroom and in to the Common Room, where they could talk normally.

He smiled. "Do not worry, when you get your son back, he will be a man!" he joked.

Hermione's eyes widened. "If he comes back here with a- a tattoo or something like that, I swear I'll—"

"First of all, who would tattoo a one month old baby? Second, what would it say?"

"Someone you know and something like "I love milk.""

Fred pretended to look offended. "I resent the fact that you think I would go to all that trouble just to have it say "I love milk"! My creative genius would come up with something more artistic that "I love milk,"" he said. "Anyway, Matt is a baby, not a _cow_."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "No comment," she said before going back into her bedroom, leaving Fred outside as she closed the door just as he was about to follow. She came out a few minutes later with a large bag in hand and gracelessly dropped it in front of Fred. "That is all the things you'll need to take care of him for the next few days: clothes, formula, bottles, diapers. You know how to change a diaper and feed him, so I'm not really worried about that. What I am worried about, however, is that he will come back exactly like you, so no funny business."

Again, she went back into her bedroom, only this time she returned with blue-ribboned basket, which was holding a still sleeping Matthias. "Please return him to me in one piece," she said quietly to Fred. "That's all I ask of you really."

Fred gripped the basket with one hand and the bag with the other. "Stop worrying," he said before surprising her with a peck on the cheek and heading towards the portrait-hole. He called back to her, as he exited, "Matt will be _fine _with me."

---

Life with a baby, whether or not he/she or it is with you, is a worrisome one to live. Not that Hermione was worried Fred was going to neglect Matthias; it was that Fred was going to try and "educate" him. Even though Hermione knew she should be worrying about her N.E.W.T.s, because Fred was perfectly capable of taking care of Matt, there was no doubt about that. It was a little over a month since she had him, and in that little time Fred had shown that he can be responsible, contrary to popular belief.

"Hermione, I am completely lost here," Harry said suddenly, pulling Hermione out of a daze.

"Huh?" she said.

"That's exactly it," he said. "I'm sitting here, rereading all these Transfiguration notes, and I'm like 'Huh?' When the bloody hell did we go over this!" He tossed a paper to her.

"Harry, this is the first thing we did this year," she said disappointedly. "Don't tell me we have to start from there."

"Well," he said sheepishly, "I don't exactly have the best memory..."

"I told you to start studying weeks ago," scolded Hermione, "Why didn't you listen?"

"When do I ever listen?"

She rolled her eyes. "We'll just have to find some time to go over all of this," she said calmly. "Our first one is Potions, tomorrow afternoon. We have all morning to study, but we need to study tonight too if we want to be able to cover everything. Transfiguration is the last one, which gives us several days to study for it, not to mention the fact that we have the day before it off."

"I'm guessing you're about to come up with a schedule that includes when I go to the bathroom, right?"

"Of course."

"Forget it, Hermione, I completely remember all this stuff."

"Harry," she said warningly. "These are the _N.E.W.T.s_; they decide what jobs you can get. You want to be an Auror, and Transfiguration is a _must._"

"You'd think after saving the world they'd find you an appropriate person to help find Dark Wizards, but nope, that's not the way things seem to be."

"You're so difficult sometimes, Harry," said Hermione tiredly. "Just follow my schedule for _one _week. I think after saving the world you'd be able to handle that, but nope, that's not the way things seem to be."

Harry smiled at Hermione's teasing. "I love you, too, Ms. Granger."

"Stop procrastinating and read over your potions notes."

"I already _did_ that," he whined.

"Honestly, Harry, if you do not want to study, then don't. I'm not stopping you from getting up and leaving."

"There's nothing else to do but study," he continued to whine. "Everyone else I would talk to is studying, including Ms. Ginevra Weasley."

"Go talk to some fourth years," suggested Hermione.

Harry's face hardened. "Was that supposed to be a joke?"

Hermione returned the look. "Did it _sound _like a joke?"

They continued to stare at one another, willing each other to look away or drop the look; Harry lost when Ginny walked in.

"Well it's good to know Ginny can distract you so easily," teased Hermione as Ginny and Harry shared a quick, but passionate, kiss. "I can't understand how you can be on the same Quidditch team and win."

"Shove off, Hermione," said Ginny jokingly. She looked around the Common Room curiously. "Where's Mattie?"

"_Matthias _is with Fred for a few days," she answered simply. "So I can study."

"How long has he been gone?"

"A few days."

"And why didn't I notice before?"

"Because you, like Harry, are easily distracted."

Ginny nodded. "I figured that had something to— hey, is this a new rug?"

---

The dark and seemingly desolate apartment had very few furnishings. The fireplace did not work properly, the stove refused to light at certain times during the day, and the chairs and couches did not like to be sat on. There was only one room that Fred Weasley was proud to call his own. The apartment, of course, was his own. After having discussed with his brother, George, for what seemed like hours, they decided they could live separately. What Fred did not realize at the time was that George was the one who seemed to keep everything together in the house. Without George, Fred's flat had fallen into disrepair, and the enchanted furniture was untamable.

But his one room, his bedroom, was kept neat. Partly because that was where Fred spent his time whenever he was home, but mostly because that was where he intended on keeping Matthias whenever he were to baby-sit him.

Although, Fred didn't like referring to it as babysitting, because, in some strange way, he was actually being a parent to Matthias. That was what he was _supposed _to be.

Matthias, only one month old, had lost the tuft of red hair he had been born with, and was bald. Fred loved watching the little infant sleep at times and often imagined him, years older, running Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.

Yes, he was still aiming to "pranksterfy" Matthias. And, yes, Fred was still aiming for training Matthias to be the heir to Fred's, what he liked to call, "prankster-dom". Let's just say, for frankness' sake, that Fred liked making up words using "prank".

Anyway, Fred kept his bedroom unusually neat and tidy for Matthias. He had moved his bed against the wall (yes, the same one that was mocking him with Hermione's image), and squeezed in a crib, a changing table, and several other things (those several things he did not use, but had them just for Hermione's sake).

Sleep was a miracle to come by for Fred nowadays, but he did not mind all that much. He didn't really notice, to be completely honest. Whatever time he did not spend tending to Matthias, he spent thinking about Hermione, and their situation.

There was some uneasy feeling in the bottom of his stomach when he thought of her, as though something had still gone unresolved. Of course, Fred was not stupid, he knew exactly what had remained unresolved; he had since Matthias had been born. But what was he supposed to say? Was he just supposed to, again, announce his love?

He could not risk losing Matthias.

He could not risk losing Hermione.

Again.

---

Most students of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry were relaxing after the seemingly long week of exams. They were either lounging by the lake or outside doing something or another. Well, everyone but Hermione, who was pacing her room.

If you looked at her at this moment, and based all of your judgment on this one moment, you would probably say she is crazy. But there was a perfectly sane reason as to why she was pacing fervently.

Fred was late, by over two hours. Hence, the pacing.

"Where could he _possibly _be?" she asked herself over and over again, her voice growing louder each time. By the time she gave up this chant, it was echoing. Not that she noticed.

Finally, she decided that maybe she needed to go in search of the missing two.

---

A quiet _coo _somehow woke Fred from his short sleep. Only to have him find that he was over two hours late in returning Matthias to Hermione. He shrugged, hoping that she would just think he'd stopped off to get a spot of tea along the way. He stood up and stretched before heading to Matthias crib.

But as he approached, he found himself unable to get closer than two feet from the crib. "Matthias," he said warningly, but softly. "I'm not going to hurt you, just let down this barrier so you can go home to mum. You know we both want to see her."

Once again, the infant cooed, signaling to Fred that he could now step forward. This is exactly what Fred did. He was used to the baby's force-field by now, and knew it was best not to try and get rid of it himself.

"You know I would never hurt you, Mattie," said Fred quietly once he had collected all the bags and was heading out the door with the child. "I love you and your mother too much to ever do that."

Matthias remained silent at this, for he was barely two months old now. It was not as if Fred was saying to Matthias really, he was saying to himself.

But for what Fred knew about his feelings for Hermione, he also knew that nothing could ever happen between them. Ron had been his brother, and he knew that Hermione would never love him in the way she loved Ron anyway.

Or so he thought.

---

"Hermione!"

"Watch where you are going!"

"Thanks for knocking my books over!"

These were the only calls Hermione received while running down the hall that were appropriate. She was, of course, looking for Fred, or anyone she thought knew where he was. The most logical person would be Ginny, not only Fred's sister, but the only person other than Fred that talked to him almost daily, but Hermione was not thinking logically at the time.

As she turned the corner, she was not thinking about the welfare of other people that might also be rounding the corner, she did not think about it before, or after she knocked over Harry; she did not think about it when he called back at her; she did not think about it until he practically tackled her to the ground to stop her from running.

"Let me go, Harry," said Hermione, irritated, through clenched teeth, trying to pull her arms from his grasp.

"Where's the fire?" he asked jokingly.

"Where's my baby?" she asked right back.

"With Fred... right?"

He released her arms, for she had finally stopped struggling. She glared at him indignantly. "He'd better be, or there will only be one Weasley twin left."

Harry furrowed his brow. "Are you feeling okay, Hermione?"

"You tell me."

"Hermione—"

"I mean, he was supposed to be here over _two _hours ago," she continued, "Where could he _possibly _be? It's not as if it is a long trip from his flat."

"He's probably just being sa—"

"Fredrick knows, he _knows _that I have a schedule," Hermione unceasingly said, "And so does Matthias. Oh, he must be missing me so much! Matthias, of course, not Fred. Not that Fred has any reason to miss me—"

"I beg to differ."

Hermione slowly stopped her pacing and turned. Her eyes widened at the site that was before her.

Fred grinned widely. "Did ya' miss me?"

Without answering, Hermione rushed forward, relieving Fred of the baby he was carrying.

She hugged him gently. "Matthias, did you miss me?"

Only Harry seemed to notice Fred's face falling, and greeted the Weasley twin merrily. "Any new creations I can look forward to this summer?" he asked as they followed Hermione down the corridor.

The only response he got from Fred was a shrug. That was the only response he could get out of him for the rest of the walk back to the Head's dormitory, no matter what he talked about. Fred kept his eyes straight ahead, on Hermione, who seemed to not notice them following her due to being too absorbed with Matthias.

Not that Harry minded much, because he was desperately trying to figure out what was wrong with Fred. He gave up asking him after barely two minutes, and decided it was best to just _watch _Fred.

And watch Fred he did. Harry watched Fred watch Hermione. It was, in a way, strange to see Fred looking at Hermione in the way he was. Harry was, unnervingly, reminding of how Ron had stared at Hermione. The look in Fred's eyes was so reminiscent of Ron's that Harry thought, for a mere second, that Fred might possibly have fallen for Hermione. But he knew that was not possible... it was just too off... it was just so... unexplainable for Harry.

Fred could _possibly _have fallen for Hermione. But Hermione falling for _Fred_? That just seemed near impossible to him. Hermione had loved Ron.

But, Harry countered with himself, Ron was gone, and Hermione was free to love again.

The question was not _Does Hermione_ want_ to love again?_ Because the answer to that was obvious. The true question was, of course: _Is Hermione _ready _to love again?_

---

"Just _leave_, Fred," Hermione had said, slamming the door in his face. Harry was already in her room, holding Matthias under Hermione's orders. The idea that she could calmly talk this out with Fred was quickly lost when he did not seem to care how worried she was. Contrary to Hermione's belief, he _did _care that she was worried. He cared too much.

It was now over three months later. He had not seen Matthias or Hermione since that day; he had not heard anything from her. She had left Hogwarts a few days after they fought, and though he knew where she was, he had not attempted to contact her; he knew that she did not want to have contact with him.

So here he was, lying in bed, memorable thoughts drifting through his head as the ceiling and the wall both started to mock him as they had been since the night of the argument. Remembering the nights over six months earlier, and how this situation resembled that one, was a somewhat cheerful stance on what was going on. If he thought about it, they fought, he stared at the mocking wall, and they ended up close once more in the end.

He prayed to God that this would turn out the same way.

But, Fred had his doubts.

Hermione had locked him out of her bedroom after slamming it in his face, and had not relented even after him practically begging while shouting his apology at the top of his lungs. Blaise had even emerged from his room at the commotion, asking what all the fuss was about. When Fred had told him, Blaise had softly knocked on the door and had a conversation with Hermione through the door. It had ended with Blaise forcing Fred to leave.

Turning over once more, Fred tried to replace his thoughts of Hermione with something else. _Anything _else. When it did not work, he gave up feigning being indifferent towards Hermione. It was not worth the heartache. He knew how he felt about Hermione, and he also knew nothing could change that.

When he thought of just the _name _"Hermione" his heart seemed to flutter in that cliché, cheesy way. But that was nothing compared to when he thought of her laughter, or her dark chestnut eyes. It was like a _convulsion _of his heart and stomach. Except it was a _good _kind of feeling, in a _bad _sort of way. That's how Fred thought of it anyway. Thinking of Hermione made him happy, yet sad at the same time. He loved hearing her name, he just hating not being able to see her.

His feeling was often represented in a dream where Hermione was standing about a hundred yards away from him, and he was trying to run to her, because he was so glad to see her, but when he moved his legs he did not move. It actually seemed like Hermione was going _farther _away, instead of getting closer. So he kept running, and running, until his legs could not function anymore. All the while, Hermione was just standing serenely, as if she were waiting for Fred. Once he grew too tired, however, Hermione would frown and shake her head.

"I thought you were different," she would say.

"I _am _different," insisted Fred, over and over again.

She shook her head at this every time. "Then why are you giving up?"

That is where Fred would always wake up to find the wall and ceiling mocking him.

---

"Say 'mommy,' Matthias," said Hermione to the little baby boy. "'Mommy.'"

"_Fwwwuuuud_," he said firmly, blowing several bubbles at the same time.

She smiled at this, even though she had no idea what he was trying to say. "'Mommy,'" she repeated.

"_Fwwwwuuuuuuuuuud,_" said Matthias, this time in an annoyed fashion. As if he knew something she did not.

"Are you trying to tell me something?" she asked jokingly.

"He's only five months old, what could he possibly be trying to tell you?" said Harry from the other room.

Hermione's flat consisted of one bedroom, a bathroom, a small living room barely big enough to fit a couch, and an eat-in kitchen. Harry was in the small living room, fixing the television Hermione had insisted on buying. "Just to add a touch of Muggle to my flat," she had told Harry. Of course, another thing that came along with the television was that when it broke, someone had to fix it. That someone happened to be Harry.

"I don't know," she replied. "I can't exactly—"

"_FWWWWUUUUUUUUUUD!_" shouted Matthias in what could only be called an angry manner.

"It sounds like he is saying 'Fred,'" said Harry, stopping what he was currently doing (toying with the wires on the back of the television as if he had any idea what exactly he was doing) to step into Hermione's bedroom.

"Nonsense, why would he be saying... 'Fred'?" asked Hermione.

Harry ignored the pause and answered her. "Because Mattie here is a lot more clever than we think he is."

Her eyes narrowed. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that ever since that fight, which I have already conveyed my opinion about, you've missed Fred," countered Harry. "Both Matthias and I know that you need to talk to him. As soon as possible."

After rolling her eyes, Hermione turned back to face her child. "What do you have to say about that?" she asked seriously.

"_FWWWUUUUUUUUUUUD!_" he shouted once more.

Harry only had one thing to say to that, a smirk on his face. "I told you so."

---

The dimly lit corridor was suddenly brightened with a "Lumos!" shouted by a familiar voice. Fred jumped, he had been about to exit his bedroom to get something to eat.

"Who's there?" he asked bravely, pulling his own wand out and stepping into the hallway. He was shocked to find that the person holding the wand was the one and only Hermione Granger. Well, she was not alone; in her arms was the wrapped up Matthias.

All they could do, after three months, was stare at each other for several minutes, even though both wanted to greet each other in a rather romantic fashion.

"What are you doing here?" Fred finally asked, stowing his wand back in his pocket.

"I needed to see you," she answered quietly.

"I've needed to see you for a long time," he replied, "but you didn't seem to care. I thought you didn't care."

"That's what I thought, too," she said, "I thought I didn't care either. But I realized, with help from Matthias, that I didn't _want _to care. You have to understand Fred, I _loved _Ron—"

He tried to cover the hurt from that statement and interrupted. "I _know_ you loved Ron, and that's why I didn't do anything."

"Let me finish, Fred," she said patiently. "I _loved _Ron, but he's gone now. And I'm meant to move on. What exactly I'm moving onto, I really don't know that much. One thing I _do _know, though, is that you have to be a part of the future somehow. The Unbreakable Vow, it was meant to happen, and that means something to me. Ron did not die for anything; I know that. Ron died for me; he died for me so I could move onto something else in my life. And I think that something else is _you,_ Fred."

Smiling, Fred responded. "Took you long enough to figure out my charm had gotten to you."

She smiled back. "You just completely ruined that moment."

"That's what I do. Fred Weasley, Moment Ruiner Extraordinaire." He took an unsure step forward. "So what exactly does this mean?"

"What does what mean?"

"This moment that I ruined," he said. "Does it actually mean something? I mean, are you _ready _to mo—?"

Without hesitation, Hermione took the necessary amount of steps forward needed to reach up and kiss Fred in the way she had been secretly wishing to for months. Once they pulled back, both were grinning widely. "That answers my question," Fred said rather breathlessly. "Now, if I ask more questions, will I get more answers like that?"

"I don't know, ask another question," suggested Hermione playfully.

"Hmmm, read any good bo—?"

The answer to this was a good one in both Fred's and Hermione's opinions. This went on for several minutes, of course. Until they were interrupted by the shout of a little baby named Matthias.

They both smiled at the child that had unknowingly been the one to bring them together in the first place. Fred looked down at Matthias, then back up at Hermione.

"I think he likes me," he said without doubt. "What do you thi—?"

Fred was once again given a satisfactory answer.


End file.
